Private Eyes 2: Psycho Killer
by Lord of Kavaka
Summary: Sequel to PRIVATE EYES. Detective Kate Beckett picks up a case that has an unexpected connection with her unsolved shooting. Meanwhile, her boyfriend, CIA Agent Rick Castle, is back in New York after an encounter with an international criminal simply known as "The Knave". Little do they know their worlds are about to collide. AU. Spy Castle. Castle Summer Hiatus 2015 Ficathon Entry
1. Prologue

**TITLE** : Psycho Killer  
 **AUTHOR** : Lord of Kavaka  
 **CHARACTERS** : Castle/Beckett  
 **RATING** : T  
 **TIMELINE** : Season 4 AU  
 **STORY TYPE** : Romance/Adventure/Action/Thriller/Crime  
 **SPOILERS** : Anything from Season 1 - 7  
 **DISCLAIMER** : I do not own them, and I make no profit.  
 **SUMMARY** : Sequel to PRIVATE EYES. Detective Kate Beckett joins forces with CIA Agent Rick Castle to stop an international serial killer known as "The Knave". AU. Spy Castle. Castle Summer Hiatus 2015 Ficathon Entry.

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 **Psycho Killer – Prologue**

His feet hit the ground hard as he jogged across the pedestrian packed street, eyes flirting around anxiously as his heart pounded inside his chest. Sweat slicked down his back, making his shirt stick to his skin. The frantic voices of confused and panicked agents echoed from the earbud ensconced in his right ear. Many had been caught up in the ambush, and were scrambling to find cover. The boys back in HQ were freaking out, still trying to recover from the shock of the abrupt betrayal by their asset.

Operation Looking Glass was a complete clusterfuck. Nearly seven months of hard work had just gone down the drain. The bastard had set them up. York was going to be livid. Heads were going to roll back at Langley. Over the communications, he could already hear Agent-In-Charge Huxley trying to cover his own ass and shift the blame to someone else.

Narrowing his eyes, he ignored the arrogant prick and glanced around the crowded bazaar, searching for Johann Kriedt. After being found in an underground S&M dungeon in New York City and seized into custody by the FBI last year, the crooked arms dealer had struck a deal with the Justice Department. In exchange for his cooperation in apprehending and testifying against the international criminal known as _The Knave_ , Kriedt would be guaranteed witness protection from any prosecution or retribution, officially becoming a Company asset.

And that was how Agent Rick Castle ended up back in Istanbul, the one place he had sworn never to return. The last time he had been in Turkey's largest city—almost two years ago—his then-partner had tried to kill him. He still had a few scars from that night, not all of which were visible.

Stifling his memories of the last time he had chased through the streets of this very city, Castle quickly dodged shoppers and tourists, dropping his hand to his waist in order to conceal his weapon. He puffed out a breath, and gritted his teeth, working through the fatigue as he maneuvered around a vender hawking his wares to a group of German tourists. Castle heard the distinctive soft _pop pop_ before the man crumpled to the ground beside him. He dropped back, letting out a curse, as he crouched, making himself as small a target as possible.

Alarmed cries emitted from nearby pedestrians as the unseen shooter sliced down another innocent bystander. Another second or two and the crowded marketplace would erupt into mass hysteria.

" _Castle… I need a sitrep_!" Huxley's voice echoed in his right ear as he dove behind a cart.

Growling, he brought his right hand up to his mouth. "I'm a little busy," he hissed into the miniature microphone concealed in the cuff of his shirt.

With a quick twist of his neck, Castle glanced around the side of the cart. Amid the frightened crowd, he caught sight of a muzzle flash just before a bullet shattered the front façade of the cart. Pulling back, he readjusted his grip on his gun. Spinning around, he took aim, and returned fire. He retreated back behind his cover just as the sniper retaliated, sending a series of bullets into the front of the cart. Ceramic trinkets shattered and the wooden frame buckled under the assault.

" _Castle… Dammit! I need that sitrep_!" Huxley shouted into his ear.

People screamed as the hidden shooter began to indiscriminately fire into the fleeing crowd. Castle spun back around and lined up his shot. He squeeze the trigger, feeling the satisfying recoil of his Sig Sauer as his shots ricocheted around the windowsill two stories up on the building across the street. He caught a passing glance of a man in black fatigues retreating back into the second story room.

Clenching his jaw, Castle pushed off from his hiding spot and darted across the street. He raised his wrist up to his mouth. "I'm in pursuit," he relayed back to HQ. "Male. Mid-thirties. Dark brown hair." Yeah, he got all that from only a fleeting glance of the man's face. He was that good. Also, it helped that it was a face he'd likely never forget.

The shooter was Raymond Kilmer. His traitorous partner was now apparently in the employ of Johann Kriedt. And this was the second time he'd tried to kill Castle during a blown covert operation in Istanbul.

Castle lowered his shoulder and plowed through the door beneath the window he'd spotted Kilmer, sending it off its hinges. He stumbled into a living room, finding the slumped form of an elderly man on the floor. Single shot to the back of the head. Clean and professional. The older man had probably never saw it coming. Kilmer had always prided himself on his stealth. Holding his gun up in the ready position, Castle dashed up the stairs. He heard a window shatter up above and double-timed it.

He rammed through the door, and rushed into the bedroom. The window on the left was smashed open. Castle arched his neck and glanced down at the alleyway, easily spotting Kilmer running north, away from the street market. He relayed the info to HQ and ran back down the stairs.

Bursting out into the street, he swerved right to follow Kilmer. The shoppers and tourists were still swarming the bazaar in a mad surge of panic as they tried to escape the chaos, unknowingly aiding the assailant's escape. Castle rushed between terrified people, trying his best to keep up. He was not as brutal as Kilmer was in his determination to reach the north gate of the bazaar. His former partner violently shoved panicked shoppers out of his way, shooting at those who were too slow. Castle gulped down deep breaths as he pumped his legs, running as hard and fast as he could to catch up with Kilmer.

"He's heading for the north gate," Castle shouted into the hidden microphone in his shirt cuff, praying that Huxley wasn't too busy trying to cover his ass to send backup to the location in order to block Kilmer's get away. He got no response.

Gritting his teeth as he growled in frustration, Castle weaved through the throng of horrified people. He saw the north gate. A black Mercedes-Benz G-Class SUV was parked there, backdoor open and waiting. Squinting, Castle could just barely make out the sandy-brown hair of Johann Kriedt as the arms dealer climbed into the backseat. Kilmer wasn't far behind. The rogue agent jumped up, gripping the top of the roof as he twisted his torso around and fired a series of shots in Castle's direction.

Right in front of him was a tear-streaked face little boy, standing in the middle of the street, lost and wailing for his mother. Castle moved quickly, grabbing him and wrapping his tiny body close to his chest as he rolled to the left, just as the spray of bullets struck the ground where the boy had been standing. Keeping the child shield with his broad frame, Castle craned his neck over his shoulder to see Kilmer smirk back at him with a cruel smugness, before he ducked down into the SUV and slammed the door shut. With a heavy sense of defeat, Castle watched as the car took off, vanishing around a corner.

Standing up, he released the boy, watching as he darted over to a distraught woman wearing a black hijab. Castle let out a breath, relieved to see the boy was reunited with his mother. He glanced back at the north gate with a vexed scowl, sighing in displeasure. Not only had Kriedt escaped, but so had Kilmer. Seven months. Seven long months of work gone in a flash. They were no closer to capturing _The Knave_ than they had been five months ago when questionable intel suggested the fiend was in Beirut. York was not going to be happy.

Huxley's voice returned in his ear, demanding a situation report. Annoyed, Castle tugged the earbud out. The senior agent could just stew for a while. Glancing down at his Sig Sauer, he flicked the safety on, and then tucked it into the back of his trousers, adjusting the loose fabric of his shirttail to conceal it.

And then, like he'd been trained, Agent Rick Castle disappeared.


	2. Chapter 1

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 1**

It was always the same for her when she arrived to meet a body. Today was no different. She unbuckled her seatbelt, opening the door, and climbed out of her new department-issued Dodge Charger. But before making the trek to join the crime scene techs and her fellow detectives, she paused. Not long. Just the length of a slow deep breath. That was all it took for her to remember the one thing she would never forget. Another body waited. She drew in a breath. And when she could feel the raw ache from what had been taken from her nearly twelve years ago, Detective Kate Beckett was ready to go to work.

The weather was odd for this time of year. Winter was unwilling to relinquish its hold, blocking the sun with ominous gray clouds that never really amounted to anything but a dismal and bleak day. There was an unnatural chill to the morning breeze, and Beckett shivered, tugging her fashionable Burberry coat tighter around her slender frame as she walked down the alley, through the hot steam that rose up through sewer vents in great puffs of white mist, towards the taped off crime scene.

A uniform offered her a smile as he lifted the yellow tape, and Beckett bent down to duck under it, but as she did so, the surgical scar along her side pulled, causing her to clench her teeth and wince, instinctively reaching up to soothe the throbbing ache. It had been almost a year since she had been shot at her former captain's funeral—while she was giving the eulogy, no less—and she was still experiencing the lingering effects. She soldiered through it, gritting her teeth, and breathing through her nostrils.

Getting shot in the chest had not made her weak, like she had initially believed upon her return to New York City after her extended three month medical leave. She was stronger now than she was last year. She had worked her ass off to get that way. And it helped having someone in her personal life who had similar experiences and understood what it was like to get shot. Meeting the suave and dashing Rick Castle had been an unexpected turning point in her life. With him, Kate Beckett managed to survive being abducted and tortured by a group of mercenaries. She had held her own against those thugs, and never once did Castle look at her like she was some damsel in distress, needing a white knight to rescue her. He saw her as an equal.

And he loved her. Despite being a woman broken by a tragic past and current trauma, CIA Special Agent Rick Castle had fallen in love with her. And she loved him in return. He restored her faith and hope in a happily ever after. Not the fairy tale kind. But a more real, personal kind of happiness, one that didn't necessarily need the love of a man to achieve. She learned to accept herself, faults and all, and be happy with that, to love the person she was. She learned that it was okay to drop those walls around her heart and embrace something terrifying, because it could be wonderful. Rick Castle wasn't her happily ever after; he was just a part of it.

The surgical scar along her side throbbed again, and she winced, straightening up. It was just a minor bump in the road. Despite her personal growth, her body seemed determined to heal at a different speed. And though, for the most part, she was fully recovered—her heart was strong and healthy, her scars would still occasionally pull or ache. Her doctor assured her that the pain was not permanent, that it would lessen in time. Beckett just wished it would get off its lazy ass and get there already. She was sick and tired of still having to deal with an incident that she would prefer to leave in the past and forget.

"You alright, Beckett?" Detective Javier Esposito greeted.

She blinked her eyes, and glanced up at her colleague, only then realizing that she had been cradling her side. "Yeah," she answered, quickly dropping her hand and adjusting her coat. "I'm fine." Beckett swallowed past the lie, and gestured with a jerk of her head. "What have we got?"

Esposito gave her a dubious look, but thankfully let the matter drop. He was good like that, never pressing her for more than she was willing to give. "We've got a Hispanic male, late 20s," he read from his notepad, walking alongside her towards where the medical examiner was inspecting the body, which had already been moved from the ground to a gurney. "Cabbie spotted the body about an hour ago and called it in."

"We get an ID?"

"No, not yet," Esposito shook his head. "We checked his pockets, there's no phone, keys, or wallet. We're checking prints right now. From the blood trail, it looks like he was shot before he entered the alley."

Beckett nodded, pausing to make one last survey of the scene, before stepping over to join Dr. Lanie Parish by the gurney. Her friend stood over the body, twisting her torso and tilting her head slightly to scrutinize the wound. Straightening back up, she flicked her wrist and made a note on her clipboard. Spotting Beckett, Lanie offered a soft smile.

"Hey, girl, how's your morning going?" she asked.

"Pretty lousy," Beckett replied honestly, not bothering to hide her disgruntled expression and soothingly rubbing her aching side. "Though, not as bad as our victim."

Lanie hummed in agreement. "He was hit in the shoulder with what looks like a 357. But the kill shot?" She pointed to a bullet hole in the young man's forehead. "Point blank, execution style with a 9 millimeter."

"Two guns," Beckett observed with a raised eyebrow. "Could be more than one shooter." She glanced back and glared at the trail of blood on the paved asphalt leading out of the alley and towards the pedestrian sidewalk. "Was CSU able to trace that blood trail from the first shot?"

Esposito nodded. "It starts around the corner," he indicated with a gesture of his hand. "There's no visible point of origin, but their still looking."

"Mugging gone wrong?" she theorized out loud as she glanced about, putting her hands on her hips. "This is a bad neighborhood."

"Maybe," Lanie shrugged. She reached down with her gloved hand and tugged back the victim's jacket, pointing at some bruises along his shoulder. "These grooves indicate he was carrying something. And it was heavy. I'd say at least thirty pounds." She gently pulled the jacket back into place before picking up the man's hand. "I'm even seeing traces of skin tissue under his fingernails. I may be able to get DNA, but as always, I'll know more once I get him back to the morgue."

Beckett inclined her head, figuring as much. "We'll let you get to it then," she said, waving towards the waiting coroner assistants lingering by the van. Nodding a farewell to her friend, Beckett stifled a yawn as she stepped back.

Esposito moved with her, eyeing her warily. "You sure you're okay, Beckett?" he asked, the worry evident in his voice.

She sighed. It was early and she missed the warmth of her bed. Or more precisely, she missed the warmth of a familiar body beside her in bed. Her favorite ruggedly handsome spy had been gone for nearly a month now, and she missed him terribly. Though, he had been great at texting and calling, always keeping her informed, at least as best he could without revealing top-secret classified information. They even managed to Skype once or twice a week. He wasn't always able to divulge his location or what he was doing, but he always made time for her, no matter what. The last time she had seen him in person had been on his birthday. They had celebrated with his mother and daughter. Beckett had delighted in teasing him about being born on April Fool's Day. It had been a fun filled evening with the family. And afterwards, when it was just the two of them, back in her apartment, all alone, Beckett gave him her present, wrapped in a little red negligée she had bought specifically for the occasion.

"Yeah, Espo, I'm fine," she finally answered, waving off his concern and reaching up with her long fingers to brush back a few stray strands of her hair that had blown across her face, obscuring her vision. "Just wish I was still in bed."

He smirked knowingly. "Had to leave someone behind?" he asked, flashing her a teasing look.

She pivoted around and graced him with a mild variant of her infamous glare. "Not that it's any of your business, but… as a matter of fact, no," she narrowed her eyes, before resuming her march back down the alley.

"Boyfriend still out of town?" Esposito asked, stepping up alongside her. Her friends had only met Castle a handful of times—or rather less than that, if she was being honest—but it had been enough to prove he existed and wasn't some imaginary boyfriend she had invented to assure her friends she had a personal life outside of work and wasn't lonely.

"Yes," came her curt reply, halfway between a dissatisfied grumble and an irritated growl. She didn't like it, but she understood. Being a CIA operative, a lot of what Rick Castle did was classified, but she did know that he was currently on assignment overseas, and that his mission was of the utmost importance to national security. Then again, most of what he did seemed to fall under the all-encompassing umbrella of national security. He was always very vague about what he was up to, almost hesitant to share. She frowned. That was not good for a relationship, especially one in which they spent long periods of time apart without seeing one another.

"What's that been? A month… two?" Esposito's question snapped her out of her rapidly descending thoughts.

Pausing in her steps, Beckett smiled softly, touched by the brotherly protectiveness she heard in his voice. "Yeah. Just under a month."

Esposito gave her a pointed look. "Didn't you have this same problem with the last guy?"

She shook her head. "Espo, trust me," Beckett laughed lightly. "This is different than it was with Josh," she asserted, giving her friend a reassuring smile.

"If you say so," Esposito replied with a shake of his head, skeptical. He was always hesitant to believe things without evidence to back it up.

It was not too difficult to see that her friend had his doubts about Castle's relationship commitment, just as he'd had with Dr. Joshua Davidson, when the heart surgeon so easily volunteered for numerous Doctors Without Borders assignments, seemingly without considering how it would affect his then-girlfriend. But Esposito was at a disadvantage. Due to the covert nature of Castle's line of work, she was unable to share a lot of what that entailed with her friends. Only Lanie truly knew who and what her boyfriend was. As far as anyone else was concerned, though, Rick Castle was a freeloading writer, lost in wanderlust.

The cover story had actually been her idea. Castle had been delighted and impressed. She thought it was only logical, considering that in whatever down time he had in-between missions, he was working on a series of books based on her. She still didn't understand, with what he did for a living, how he could be inspired by her life and work. And Beckett was still a little irked by the name of her fictional alter-ego—Nikki Heat, yet she had to admit, after reading the manuscript of _Heat Wave_ , she approved—if not entirely on his choice of character name—but of the story itself. She hoped that some day he could get it published. He really did have a way with words, and a knack for telling a good story.

"I do," she affirmed. "Now, enough about my personal life. We've got a murder to solve."

XXX

"He's a thief," Ryan announced, striding across the bullpen and slapping a photo up on the whiteboard. While prepping the victim for autopsy, Lanie had discovered a holster carrying several lock picks strapped to the man's ankle. "Orlando Costas. Couple of domestic B and E's, but suspected of a dozen more. He used to run with the Cazadores."

"Cazadores?" Beckett asked, furrowing her brow as she shifted in her chair, putting her recently filled cup of coffee down. She did her best to keep up to date with the local gangs that operated in the city, but she wasn't familiar with that one.

"They're a violent street gang that deals in drugs, arms, and larceny, but all of Orlando's priors are back when he was a teenager. He hasn't been arrested in years."

"Maybe he got back into the game," Espo offered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the edge of Beckett's desk. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Ryan shook his head. "I don't know," he said, glancing at the manila folder in his hands. "He went a long way to clean up his act. Did four years active in the military, discharged with honors last year. Spent his rotation as an MP in Germany."

"Military police?" Esposito raised his eyebrows, impressed. "He really did clean up his act."

"Yeah," Ryan gave a nod.

"If this guy went straight, then how did he end up dead in an alley?" Beckett asked. When she received no answers from her colleagues, she stood up and shoved her hands into the pockets of her slacks as she stared at Orlando's photo on the whiteboard. "Did you check for next of kin?"

"Uh, his folks are dead," Ryan glanced back down at the notes in the folder. "But we did manage to track down a girlfriend, Marisol Cartagena. Uniforms are bringing her in right now."

XXX

The door to the apartment was unlocked, just as his contact had promised. The interior was minimally furnished—a card table and some folding chairs in the kitchen nook, a beat-up La-Z-Boy recliner, and an old antenna television set. The bedroom was just as spartan, featuring only a single mattress and pillow, sans bed sheets. It didn't matter. For the time being, it would do.

He dropped his large black duffel bag on the mattress, and pulled an old flip phone out of his back pocket. Walking back into the shared kitchen nook and living room area, he punched in a number and held the device up to his ear, and while he waited for the call to connect, he stepped over to the windows, tugging on the string to close the blinds.

" _How do you like the place_?" was all that greeted him when the call was answered.

"Barely satisfactory, but it'll do," he replied, walking back to the bedroom.

" _Do you have it_?"

"Yes," he answered, removing a wedding album from the duffel bag.

" _Any problems_?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he assured his contact, returning to the kitchen nook. He dropped the wedding album down and flipped through the photos, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the happy groom and bride. No longer quite so happy now, though. "Do I still have a green light to proceed?"

" _Yes_ ," his contact paused for moment. " _However, there may be a complication_."

"Oh, and what's that?" he asked, looking up from the photo album.

" _Have you heard of Detective Kate Beckett_?"

"Castle's latest squeeze? Yeah," he grunted, momentarily wondering just how much his contact actually knew. From the sounds of things, not much. He decided to play along, though, and act like he barely knew anything about the woman in question. "Hot piece of work, from what I've heard. Real looker. Has great legs."

" _That's her. She's like a dog with a bone when it comes to this case. You may have to deal with her_."

He had figured as much. He wasn't really worried about Kate Beckett. She could easily be handled. However, he was more concerned with the wild card that was Rick Castle. The bastard had got a little too close to his operations last month in Istanbul. Thankfully, Johann Kriedt had proven to be both loyal and surprisingly prepared, having already set up an escape route. This operation, however, was a little more delicate. It would require some finesse, hands on care. Orlando Costas was only a minor inconvenience. And with a client willing to pay anything, he could stomach a few more inconveniences, even if they involved Rick Castle.

He smirked. "Don't worry about it. I already have something in mind." And with that, he hung up, tossing the phone down on the table, before pulling up a chair and sitting down, intent on giving the wedding album a closer examination. He'd deal with Detective Beckett later—when and if necessary. Right now, he had a different target.

XXX

Her interview with the grieving girlfriend revealed that Orlando Costas had been having financial difficulties after being released from his military service. He often woke up early in the morning and borrowed her car to drive down to the career center to check the job listings. But Marisol Cartagena insisted, quite vehemently, that Orlando would never get involved with the Cazadores again. She was offended by the speculations, and even implied Beckett was wasting time trying to make it all Orlando's fault, instead of finding whoever killed him. She didn't begrudge the woman for her beliefs. Nor did she doubt the woman's assertions that Orlando wanted to be a better man for her and their son, but Beckett was also aware of how good people were sometimes left with no option.

Unfortunately, life was not always fair.

And that was something she knew all too well.

At present, Detective Beckett was waiting for uniforms to finish a canvass of the surrounding area, hoping they would find Marisol's car in close vicinity to their crime scene. She sat, perched on the edge of her desk, a refilled cup of coffee in hand, staring up at the whiteboard, uncertain exactly where the investigation would lead. They needed that car.

She had a missed call from Castle on her phone. He had called while she had been in the middle of interviewing Marisol Cartagena. However, he hadn't left a message. Beckett hoped it meant he was returning home. She missed him. The Memorial Day weekend was approaching. And if Castle were back by then, Beckett thought it might be nice to get out of the city for a while, just the two of them, and spend some quality time getting reacquainted without any outside distractions. Besides, she had been itching for an excuse to take him upstate to her father's cabin.

But all of that would only be possible if she could somehow wrap this case up as soon as possible. She needed that car. And she needed it now.

Her phone buzzed on her desktop. Beckett pushed off from the edge of desk and stepped around, placing her mug of coffee down and snatching up the device as it vibrated across the desktop, hoping it was from Ryan, informing her that they'd found the car. Alas, it was not. It was a text from an unknown number.

 _Still missing Mommy_ , was all it said.

Beckett was unprepared for her reaction to this seemingly random text. Her heart dropped and she felt an extraordinary emptiness take its place. She clamped her lower lip down under her teeth before it could begin to tremble. And she blinked her eyes, desperately attempting to hold back the rising tide of tears. Beckett glanced around the bullpen, wondering who could be so cruel as to send her such a text. It was like a punch to the gut, hitting her just where she hurt the most.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she checked the phone again, confirming the anonymous source of the text message. Beckett frowned, plopping down into her chair as she reached out for a pen and paper, quickly scribbling down the number with the intention of using her NYPD computer access to look it up and identify the caller.

But then her phone buzzed in her hand again, and she looked down, seeing another text from the same unknown caller.

It read: _Sorry, wrong number_.

Beckett released a breath she did not know she was holding in, and the sudden tension that had gripped her entire body relaxed, and slowly faded away. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, silently admonishing herself for letting her imagination get the better of her. She had a case to solve, and her boyfriend's return to anticipate. This wasn't anything to get work up about. It was nothing. But still, in the back of her mind, in some deep dark recess, Beckett couldn't help but wonder if it really had been a mistake; that the taunting text had actually really been meant for her.


	3. Chapter 2

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 2**

They found the car.

It had been parked in an empty alley, two blocks from their original crime scene. Beckett walked through the white mist steaming up from the sewer vents, eager for a lead on this case. Castle was going to be coming back to New York soon, and she was going to need this case wrapped up and finished before that happened. Captain Gates would never let her take some personal time off if she was still working an open homicide. She slapped on some gloves as she approached the car. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed that there was blood smearing on the armrest.

"This is definitely it," Esposito declared with a nod of his head, lifting a gloved hand to prop open the car door.

"So he was shot somewhere else and… what? Came here to meet someone?" Ryan asked aloud as he walked around to the other side of car and opened the passenger side door, squinting his eyes as he inspected the interior. "Why not go get patched up?"

"He was meeting someone in that alleyway," Beckett supplied, slightly jerking her head in the general direction of the alley where Orlando Costas had been found. She crossed her arms and stepped up behind her colleagues, watching as Esposito bent down to check under the driver's seat. "Got anything?"

Esposito straightened back up, holding up a flat gray object. "Phone," he said, quickly thumbing it open. "His last call was at 4:47 AM, just before he was killed."

"Run that number."

"Right," he nodded, moving back and doing just that.

Beckett stepped forward, taking his place, and crouched down, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the car's interior.

"Hey, Beckett," Ryan called from the other side of the car. She flicked her eyes up to see him holding a gun in his gloved hands. He flipped open the chamber and smelled it. "Recently fired." His brow furrowed. "You think it was a shootout? And that's where how he got the shoulder wound?"

She nodded, inclined to agree. "Which means wherever he came from there might be another body," she said, knitting her eyebrows together as she looked around the car interior. There was something about this case that felt off, like it was bigger than a deal gone bad between a reformed thief returning to his ways in order to provide for his family, and his accomplice.

"I know where he was coming from!" Esposito all but shouted, causing both her and Ryan to glance up with startled expressions.

"Where?" Ryan asked.

"His last entry was 299 First Avenue."

For the second time that day, Beckett felt like she'd just been sucker punched. She was completely blindsided. Her mouth dropped and her eyes went wide as they locked with Esposito's. Inside her chest, her heart pumped with a profound sense of dread and worry. Every nerve end seemed to come alive with anxious energy, and she had to work hard at controlling her breathing, least she slip into a panic attack.

"What?" Ryan questioned, eyebrows raised in confusion. "What's at 299 First Avenue?"

Beckett pursed her lips and swallowed past the lump in her throat, before turning her head. "Captain Montgomery's house."

XXX

He sat in the busy terminal at Grand Central Station, watching the hustle and bustle as people moved to and fro, blissfully unaware of the lion that lurked amongst them. He had spoken with his contact, and was pleased with the report on Detective Kate Beckett. The text had rattled her, as he'd hoped it would. And according to his sources within the CIA, Agent Rick Castle was due back in Washington D.C. later today, so he still had some time to mess with the detective before she had the full backup and support she was going to require for what he had planned for her.

It was a little unusual, working two jobs at once, but the fact that they came from the same client made it simpler. He was still a little worried about Orlando Costas. The thief had grown a conscious at the last minute, making him a liability. So, he had been left with no other choice than to eliminate the man. An inconvenience, but only a minor one.

The station intercom chimed, announcing the arrival of a train.

He checked his wristwatch. On time.

Sitting up, he straightened his overcoat and kept his eyes peeled, waiting for his target to make his appearance. There was a slight increase in foot traffic as people disembarked, and he stood up, narrowing his eyes as he scanned the sea of faces. It didn't take him long to spot him. He looked just like his photo in the wedding album, only older, with graying hair. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he ducked his head down and merged with the stream of people, easily keeping tabs on the man.

Weaving through the crowd of pedestrians, he situated himself three spaces behind his target. The man was none the wiser, oblivious to the fact he was being stalked. He was a predator, and like all his prey, once in his sights, they were as good as dead. But this one was a little different. The man had something his client wanted. He grinned wickedly. This time he was going to get to play with his food before he ate it.

XXX

It was a mad rush to Captain Montgomery's house. Beckett flicked on the sirens, and pushed her way through traffic, Ryan and Esposito not far behind her. Her heart hammered inside her chest with each second that ticked by on the clock. Her anxiety and worry was so high that when they finally arrived at 229 First Avenue, Beckett leaped out of her car and ran the rest of the way. Thankfully, Evelyn Montgomery and the kids were okay. The house had just been burgled. Robbery and CSU were already on scene, dusting for prints and collecting evidence. The late captain's office had been ransacked. And the wall safe had been forced open.

 _"We're so thankful no one was hurt," Ryan said._

 _"Believe me, so am I," Montgomery's widow replied, with a sad smile. "Ever since Roy died I've slept with his .347 in the nightstand."_

 _"So it was just the one guy?" Beckett asked._

 _"As far as I know," Evelyn nodded, leading them through the house, gesturing towards her late husband's office. "He was taking files out of the cabinet. He had Roy's old laptop in his backpack. When he saw me, he pulled his weapon, so God help me… I shot him. I think I hit him in his shoulder." Beckett reached out and squeezed Evelyn's arm in support. The woman sucked in a breath. "He fired back, and then he crashed through the window."_

 _Esposito removed his phone, and opened up the photo app, displaying a picture of Orlando Costas. "Was this the guy, Mrs. Montgomery?"_

 _Evelyn narrowed her eyes as she examined the picture. "Yes," she nodded, "that's him."_

 _"I'm glad Evan and the girls weren't home," Beckett said, placing her hand on Evelyn's shoulder. Montgomery's widow inclined her head, resting her hand on top of Beckett's, grateful for the support._

 _"Thank you, Kate," she exhaled slowly. "Funny thing is, I wasn't even supposed to be home either. It's almost like he knew we were going to be gone last night."_

 _"Anything special about those files?" Ryan asked, raising eyebrow._

 _Evelyn furrowed her brow as she thought. "No, not that I can think of. Just paperwork, legal documents, and some notes on Roy's old cases. Nothing special. No."_

 _"And his laptop?" Esposito questioned. "Anything on that?"_

 _"Just his old work files," she shrugged. "But mostly I used it for Christmas cards and recipes."_

Beckett sighed, pulling herself out of the memory of their conversation with Evelyn Montgomery, turning back to the whiteboard, and, with a heavy heart, adding a photo of her late captain up on the board.

"Damn it," Esposito cursed behind her. "They went after Montgomery's files. Not valuables, not cash. And now our thief is dead and the files they took are missing…"

"Hey now… let's not jump to any conclusions," Ryan interjected, holding up a hand to forestall his partner's rant, though unable to hide his own uncertainty over everything. Beckett could relate to that, her own mind was a mixture of confusion, doubt, and disbelief.

"What else would it be about," Esposito hissed out harshly. "Everyone else thinks Montgomery died bringing a cop killer to justice. We're the only ones who know what he was really involved in." He turned to Beckett. "And his connection to your mother's murder. Come on, Beckett, it can't be a coincidence."

She felt her shoulders go tense, and she bristled slightly at the implication. Gritting her teeth, she turned back around to face her partners, working hard to keep a neutral expression. "Recheck the victim's rap sheet, see if Montgomery was involved in any of his old arrests. And get on that number. I want to know who he was talking with before he died." She clenched her jaw and marched away from the whiteboard, knowing her friends would do their jobs.

Beckett stalked into the break room, her shoulders and back stiff and tense. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, pausing to breathe in a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm her rattled nerves. Beckett knew that there were thousands of break-ins in New York every year. But this one felt different. Montgomery had information on her mother's killers, information he had used to keep her and his family safe. But she also knew that Montgomery worked hundreds of cases. And just because this guy went after his files didn't automatically mean he was going after her mother's case.

But then why was Orlando Costas dead?

She was afraid of this.

The men Montgomery was involved with wanted her dead. Beckett reached up and placed a hand on the center of her chest, gently rubbing at the healed bullet wound concealed underneath her blouse. Last year she had been getting too close, and before he died, Montgomery had told her that he was going to give his life in order to protect hers. Yet, even after that, they still tried to kill her.

She still had nightmares. Not often, but every once and a while, especially when she woke up in bed alone with no one there to comfort her. Sometimes she would wake up and think to herself, "How the hell am I still alive?" Despite all the growth—both personal and otherwise—she had made over the past year, it was like she was still just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And part of her was afraid that this case was that other shoe.

Frowning, she pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and checked for any missed calls. Nothing. Where was he? She growled in frustration. Beckett really needed some reassurance right now. And she was pretty sure that the only person who could offer it to her was Rick Castle. But he was currently unreachable. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she sighed and reached for the empty pot, intent on making herself a cup of coffee.

XXX

There were many places he would rather be heading—such as a certain apartment in New York City, occupied by a gorgeous brunette—but at the moment, duty called. Rick Castle had been summoned back to Langley by his superior, Samson York. There were a lot of things York could want. But Castle had a feeling that today's summons had to do with the disaster that had been Istanbul and Operation Looking Glass.

He had landed in Dulles at a decent time. First thing he did was call Kate Beckett, but it went straight to voicemail. He opted not to leave a message, knowing none was really needed. Beckett was a smart woman. Just the fact he called was enough for her to understand. Satisfied that his girlfriend would correctly interpret his missed call as a hint that he was returning soon, Castle quickly texted his mother and daughter, letting them know he was back in the States, before heading for baggage claim. Once he retrieved his Ford Taurus from a private parking lot not far from the main airport complex, he took a leisurely drive out of D.C. and towards Langley. York would probably be irked by his delay, but Castle didn't care. He had just completed a seven hour plus flight from London. The boys in Langley could wait.

Traffic was mild, and Castle relaxed, absently listening to the radio as two political pundits debated the upcoming campaign season. The race for the White House was on. Both candidates were bland, cookie-cutter politicians, and after the long flight he'd just had, Castle couldn't stomach listening to two dull experts drone on about the supposed merits of each nominee. He turned the dial, until he found a Classic Rock station. Leaning back into his chair, he sighed with relief and drove on.

Any half-wit with basic computer knowledge could use Google Earth to get a decent view at the Central Intelligence Agency's headquarters, which rested on a leafy campus just across from Washington, D.C., alongside a sweeping bend in the Potomac River. He still remembered the first time he drove up the curved road as a young recruit. He had been in awe, humbled and honored to have been among the chosen few to serve and protect his country. How times had changed. Castle may not be as humbled as he once was, but he still felt that sense of duty to serve. He had skills—valuable skills—and he was more than happy to offer them in service to his country.

Last year had been a wild ride. Not only had Castle discovered he had a daughter, but he'd uncovered a plot by a rogue agent, who turned out to be his former partner and lover. Sophia Turner had been a traitor. However, with the help of a breathtakingly stunning NYPD Detective, Castle had foiled Turner's plans. Initially, he had simply used the lovely Kate Beckett as a mule, of sorts, to get a USB flash drive out of Washington, D.C., but the more time he spent with her, he soon realized that she was so much more than that.

Kate Beckett was an extraordinary woman, and despite his best efforts, Castle found himself falling for her. Falling hard. It had been a long time since he had fully trusted his heart to another, yet somehow, Kate gained his trust… and his love. He'd seen to little of her over the course of the months following their consummation. And he missed her, more so than he'd ever missed any of his previous romantic entanglements. Though, Kate Beckett was hardly an entanglement. Though he'd happily become tangled with her anytime, anywhere.

However, always before play, duty came first.

He found Samson York, Director of National Clandestine Services, in the cafeteria, getting himself a bottle of Schweppes' Bitter Lemon. Rumor was he had acquired a taste for the flavored carbonated beverage during his early days in the London field office. Which, Castle knew, also coincided with the time when his boss had met his wife.

"Agent Castle," York smiled pleasantly. "What a surprise! You're early."

Castle grinned back, shaking his head. "And here I was trying to show up fashionably late."

"I anticipated this behavior from you," York said with a wink. "So I scheduled the debriefing accordingly."

"You're really cramping my style, sir," Castle feigned an exasperated groan, earning an amused grin from his superior.

However, York's demeanor soon changed, turning serious. "That was bad business in Istanbul," he said, somber. "Five agents seriously wounded, and one dead. Not good at all."

"It was Johann Kriedt," Castle said with narrowed eyes, glowering. "He set us up so he could escape."

"I have a feeling Mr. Kriedt never intended to fully cooperate with us," York said with a grim expression. He shook his head, frowning. "Last time we trust his interrogation to a so-called 'special' task force operating out of the Justice Department." He sighed, and rubbed a hand over his bald crown. "Huxley said you found the shooter, but he got away."

Castle ground his teeth and his nostrils flared as he glared off into space. "Kilmer," he all but growled the name of his former partner. Almost unconsciously, he reached up and scratched at a spot just beneath his left ear. There was no physical scar, but Kilmer had whacked him pretty hard along the side of the head that night, now almost two years ago, in Istanbul of all places. As a result, he still had trouble hearing out of his left ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Then this is personal for you," York surmised with a decisive nod. "Good." He patted his arm in a supportive manner. "Others might say that it would cloud your judgment."

"But not you, sir," Castle said with a wiry smile. "Right?"

"Correct," York said. "I think it makes you even more determined to see this mission through to the very end. But first… come, let's get you debriefed."

Castle released a slow breath, and inclined his head, stepping up along side his superior and matching the man's stride as they walked towards the elevators. He would get this debriefing over with as quickly as possible. And then he'd be off for New York.


	4. Chapter 3

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 3**

He stepped through the door and walked into the conference room. Straight in front of him, spanning the entire wall, was a floor to ceiling window, which was currently covered by motorized blinds, blocking all outside light. When opened, the windows provided anyone occupying the conference room with a view of the central courtyard, leafy trees and green grass.

In the center of the room was a long glass table, which was surrounded by numerous ergonomic chairs—black leather, expensive—all facing towards a large screen that dominated the majority of the opposite wall. An even nicer chair sat at the head of the table. The backrest had more padding, supposedly to ease the rumored back problems suffered by the DCI.

Politics and policy changes had Washington bureaucrats calling him the DCIA, but here at Langley, Director Joseph Conrad Reynolds was still referred to as the DCI—Director of Central Intelligence.

It was clear now. Samson York had not led him to some random conference room. No. This was the Company's equivalent to the White House's situation room. And they were not alone. Two older men, dressed in dark suits and matching ties, sat at the table, their backs towards the covered window wall. One had a large stack of folders in front of him. And at the far end of the table—outside the spotlight, so to speak—a tall distinguished looking man with white hair sat reclined, relaxed and at ease, as if he were simply there to enjoy some light entertainment.

Rick Castle instantly recognized the man, having briefly met him seven months ago in New York, just after Sophia Turner's death.

It was Jackson Hunt, the legendary operative.

"Have a seat," York said, gesturing to one of the many chairs along the length of the table. His manner was casual, but by his voice, Castle knew it to be an order.

Doing as he was told, Castle took a seat, and watched as his superior walked over towards a biometrically sealed cabinet positioned behind the head of the table. Pressing his thumb to the scanner, York waited for the buzz and click that followed before opening the drawer and removing a thick folder from inside. After resealing the cabinet, York walked around to the other side of the table, plopping the heavy folder down on the glass surface, and then sat down in the chair on the right hand side of the Director's chair, joining the other two men at the table, forming a triumvirate. York took a relaxed swig from the glass bottle of Schweppes' Bitter Lemon, before placing it down on a waiting coaster, a detail Castle noted earlier.

They'd been expected.

Castle shifted in his chair, feeling uncomfortable in his surroundings. The uneasiness he felt was a combination of two factors.

One. The location.

He was a field operative. This wasn't his turf, and Samson York knew that. For him to bring Castle here, it meant that something big was going on, something that concerned the highest echelons of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Two. The other men.

Jackson Hunt was on the periphery, merely an observer. The other two men, though, were undoubtedly part of the CIA leadership, answerable only to Director Reynolds.

This was looking less and less like a debriefing and more like an inquiry.

Sitting straight backed, Castle folded his hands in front of him on top of the glass surface of the conference table and watched as York flipped open the folder and scanned the documents within. His expression was neutral, a professional mask the man had perfected over a long career. York had always been a tough man to read, which had helped make him one of the best and most shrewd Directors of National Clandestine Services the Agency had ever seen. It took all of Castle's willpower to refrain from displaying his displeasure at York's earlier deception. He'd always been one of York's favored, so it stung a little that his boss had not given him a heads up.

"Agent Castle, I'm Dan Kovaks, " the man with the stack of folders in front of him spoke, his tone indicating he was in charge of this meeting. He recognized the name. Kovaks was an assistant deputy director, making him York's superior. "And my colleague here is from the General Counsel's office."

 _Oh shit_ , Castle thought. _This can't be good_.

Kovaks stared at him for a long beat for continuing. "Agent Castle, have you had time to review Agent Huxley's after action report regarding the events in Istanbul."

"No, I have not," he answered truthfully, knowing it would be unwise to bluff his way through a meeting with these men. After losing Kilmer and Kriedt, Castle had spent most of his time trying to trace their escape, but his old partner was a crafty son-of-a-bitch and had covered his tracks well. And afterwards, he'd spent much of his time in London being debriefed by the senior agent at the London Field Office.

"Huxley blames you for the loss of Kriedt and the sniper that aided him," Kovaks noted.

Castle held back a retort at that, knowing such a response would do him little good. He turned to face York. "Is this a formal inquiry, sir?"

"Not yet, Agent Castle," Kovaks answered the question instead. He leaned forward, adding a harder edge to his voice. "But it could be. If you answer all our questions honestly, then you'll have nothing to worry about. Of course, we reserve the right to have you take a polygraph after these proceedings."

"Of course," he bobbed his head, having gone through mandatory polygraphs several times. It was routine for someone in his line of work. The guys in London had him take a polygraph twice during his debriefing there. With Kovaks's hostile attitude, he wouldn't be surprised if he was asked again.

"And for the record—not that there will be one—I disagree with Agent Huxley's assessment," Kovaks said. "Though regrettable, the failure in Istanbul was not your fault."

Castle gave a nod to acknowledge the statement, internally glad to hear it. For a brief minute he had been concerned that he was being set up at the fall guy for Kriedt's betrayal and escape.

York took the lull in conversation to finally speak. "We want to talk with you about another matter, Rick," York said, voice even and controlled, revealing nothing.

The use of his first name startled him, but Castle did his best to conceal his surprise. It also raised a few alarm bells in his head. Despite Assistant Deputy Director Kovaks's initial questions, this wasn't really about what happened in Istanbul, nor was it about Operation Looking Glass and its future, if it had any.

"Sir?"

Sensing his confusion, York glanced up from the papers he'd been skimming, familiarizing himself with the subject. "Katherine Beckett," was all he said.

He felt his stomach drop at the mention of her name. This wasn't good. He should have seen this coming. The moment he returned to New York to see her at her colleague's wedding was the very moment he'd disobeyed a direct order, making this very meeting practically inevitable. _Damn_. He should have been better prepared. He should have anticipated this. But he hadn't.

 _Perhaps I'm getting soft in my old age,_ he thought ruefully. "What about her?" he tried to play dumb. Even in his line of work, he was entitled to a private life.

"You were told to end your _romantic_ relationship with the detective," Kovaks asserted. "Were you not?"

"Yes, I was," he inclined his head.

"Did you?"

Castle clenched his jaw and swallowed, knowing it would be near idiotic to lie, especially with Samson York present. He exchanged a quick look with the man before redirecting his focus to ADD Kovaks. "No," he admitted.

Kovaks made no sign to indicate that this was news to him, only confirming what he had already suspected. "I'm curious, Agent Castle," he said. "You were given specific instructions. Why haven't you obeyed them?"

He shook his head, finding this entire conversation ludicrous. "You can't be serious, sir," Castle objected, glancing at York as he spoke. "That was hardly an order. More like… a suggestion."

"One you chose to ignore," Kovaks pointed out.

"And is that so wrong?" Castle all but snapped, growing defensive. After all his years of service, after all he'd sacrificed for the Company— _for his country_ —he would like to think that when it came to his private life, they'd cut him some slack and actually allow him to have what little happiness he was capable of finding in this screwed up world. "Sir," he directed the statement to York. "You're married."

For the first time since the interrogation started, York cracked, just a fraction. His tough façade showed signs of strain and regret. "Delilah left me a month ago," he admitted softly. "She's already filed for divorce."

"Sir… I… I'm sorry, I didn't know," he apologized, feeling awful. He had always admired York for his ability to maintain both a high level of work and a happy home life. He had seen it as proof that, at the end of the day, they all could find someone to go home to. Now that appeared not to be the case. And that sadden him.

"It is what it is," York shrugged, letting his guard down a bit.

"Yes," Kovaks agreed with a sympathetic nod. "However, we are not here to discuss Director York's personal life, Agent Castle." He paused and looked back down at the papers in front of him, turning one over and tapping his fingertip over one of the highlighted portions. "Want to explain to me what happened five months ago," he double checked the document, "in a town called Willow Creek?"

"Is this about Rogan O'Leary?" he asked, slightly surprised by the resurfacing of the topic.

Kovaks narrowed his eyes. "You used Agency resources to coerce Mr. O'Leary into signing a dissolution of marriage contract and expedite it through the system," he summarized. "And then you convinced Agent Danberg to give you access to Detective Beckett's signed nondisclosure agreement, enabling you to forge her signature and dissolve her marriage—no wait, correction, have it annulled."

Castle couldn't help but crack a smile. It had taken a little more work than he'd anticipated, requiring him to bend a few laws—and a few arms—but in the end, he had achieved his goal, making Beckett's marriage, at the 'Drive Through of Love' in Las Vegas to that detestable scoundrel, null and void.

"Well, sir," he offered with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "she was drunk at the time, so… I, for one, think there was some reasonable grounds for an annulment. And I didn't see the harm."

"I don't appreciate your flippant attitude, Agent Castle," Kovaks glowered. "You did all this without her consent or knowledge. Yes?"

He inclined his head.

"Then, I have to ask you… why?" Kovaks question, his brow furrowing, perplexed. "Did you do all this simply so you could take a woman to bed, and fuck her without having to worry about any moral scruples getting in the way?"

Castle bristled at the question, and the manner in which it was delivered. As well as its implications. That was low. Clearly Kovaks had done his homework, and had taken the time to review his personnel profile.

During some time off after his first field assignment, Castle had gone to Los Angeles to recuperate. While there, he met a struggling actress. Meredith had been fun and exciting. They were together for six months. Everything was intense and passionate with her. But everything changed when he was called back in for a new assignment. He discovered that Meredith had been sleeping around with numerous B-Grade movie directors and casting agents in hopes of landing a role in one of their films. It had been a devastating blow to a young Rick Castle.

Kovaks was trying to get a rise out of him by recalling this painful part of his past. Castle chose to ignore the bait. It wasn't worth it. The only positive thing that had come out of his relationship with Meredith was his daughter, Alexis Harper.

"Your record speaks for itself, Agent Castle," Kovaks said, removing a sheet of paper from Castle's personnel file and holding it up. "Your list of conquests, while on the job, is quite… extensive."

Castle pursed his lips and breathed through his nose, using all his training to maintain his cool. Kovaks smiled thinly and placed the list back in the folder.

"I'm curious what makes this Detective Beckett so special," he commented, almost absently. "Surely she's no better than any of these other women. And you've shown a serious lack of good judgment when it comes to her." He paused for beat and stared hard at Castle. "I hope she's worth it."

"She is," he asserted in a firm voice.

Kovaks glared at him. "You have a habit of disobeying authority, Agent Castle," he stated. "Which, as noted in your file, was one of the main reasons Director York recruited you."

"That is correct," York interjected. "We needed someone who could think for themselves and wouldn't blindly obey orders. I grant you, his reckless side sometimes does land him in hot water, but all in all, Agent Castle has excelled at his job. He's one of my best agents."

"As noted in his file," Kovaks nodded. He squinted down at another highlighted section. After a brief pause, His eyes flicked back up to Castle. "Let's talk about another lapse in judgment. Sophia Turner. You were engaged in an illicit affair with a double agent, where you not?"

"To be fair, at the time I didn't know she was a double agent," Castle replied with a bit of snark.

Kovaks let out a mirthless chuckle. "True," he conceded. "However, your relationship with Agent Turner became so _involved_ that you nearly botched an assignment in Morocco. As a result, Director York could no longer turned a blind eye to your indiscretions, and ordered you to end it."

"And we did," Castle defended.

"Then, seven months ago, you go rogue, abducting a prized Company asset, and involving Detective Beckett in a classified operation," Kovaks steamrolled over him.

"That 'prized asset' was my daughter," he ground out, finished with this man's bullshit.

"That's beside the point," Kovaks dismissed his protest with a wave of his hand. "You could have gone through proper channels. Instead, you decided to abscond with Miss Harper, and steal Spyglass." He narrowed his eyes at Castle, the contempt freely on display. "You're lucky your hunch about your former lover turned out to be true, otherwise we probably wouldn't be having this conversation in such luxurious surroundings. As it is, I'm sorely tempted to bring you before a disciplinary panel, but Director York has convinced me otherwise." He slammed the files shut and stood up. "Consider this your last warning, Agent Castle." And with a final nod, the Assistant Deputy Director left.

The man from the General Counsel's office silently gathered up all the files left behind, and then made his leave without so much as uttering a single word during the entire proceedings.

Now it was just Castle, York, and a watchful Jackson Hunt.

"Wow," he exclaimed at length, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing his hands up and down his face. "He's very touchy."

"Well you _did_ co-opt Agency resources to annul Detective Beckett's marriage to Mr. O'Leary," York said with a stern voice and a chiding tone, standing up. "So I can understand why he'd be upset. And on a personal note, I'm very disappointed in you, Rick. This is no laughing matter. It's very serious. I'm putting a permanent reprimand in your file for this. Look, it's not that I don't understand your reasons, but I have to agree with Kovaks. What you did was wrong. You violated our trust in you and further more roped some of your fellow agents into helping you. I'm afraid; when it comes to Kate Beckett you become an unknown quantity. And frankly, Rick, that scares me. I can't have a compromised agent working on highly delicate operations that could affect national security."

York paused, reaching up to run his fingers along his bald crown. He sighed, and glanced at Castle with sympathetic eyes. "You're my best agent, so I'm bias," he said. "But I can't play favorites. Not now. Not with a presidential election coming up. The political winds are changing in Washington, Rick, and we're all starting to feel the pressure."

"I wasn't aware," Castle admitted, slumping back down in his chair.

"Well, now you are," York pointed out with a tight smile, standing up and collecting the documents before him. He walked back to the sealed cabinet and returned the files. After resealing the biometric lock, York retrieved his Schweppes' Bitter Lemon and turned back to Castle, squinting his eyes in a cunning manner. "If I'm not mistaken, you've got some leave coming up."

"Yes, sir, I do."

York nodded. "We're still waiting for intel on Johann Kriedt's whereabouts. Operation Looking Glass is still active. And seeing as you're my best agent, and because of your personal connection with Kilmer, I'm going to want you well rested. So I suggest you take it then."

And with that, his boss left, leaving Castle alone in the room with legendary CIA operative Jackson Hunt. The senior agent stood up at length, and leisurely walked around the table, hands in his pockets, until he was directly across from Castle.

"Do you love her?" he questioned, direct and blunt.

"Yes," Castle answered with complete certainty.

"Would you like some advise, son?" he asked, his voice deep, with an air of command and experience.

"Please."

Hunt's lips quirked up slightly, and his blue eyes glinted with a knowing spark. "Learn from my mistakes, son… ignore the bureaucrat, and follow your heart."

XXX

The light of the setting sun radiated through the parted window blinds on the fourth floor of the 12th Precinct, bathing the homicide bullpen in a warm orange glow. Beckett sat, perched on the edge of her desk, staring blankly up at the whiteboard, still trying to put the pieces together and find out what it was that connected Orlando Costas to her former captain.

After Ryan and Esposito's search of Orlando's rap sheet turned up nothing, Beckett had rechecked it herself—twice—just to make sure. She trusted her colleagues, but she was already on edge, so she needed to see the evidence for herself. Montgomery hadn't been involved in any of Orlando's old arrests. So it wasn't personal. The break-in made even less sense now than it had before, unless she considered Esposito's theory that it had to do with her mother's murder.

Beckett did not want to fall down that rabbit hole again, but the longer she looked at it, the more likely it appeared to be connected to her mother's death, and by extension, her shooting. This time, when her hand came up to rub at the healed wound beneath her blouse, it was a conscious act. She closed her eyes, and inhaled deeply through her nose, attempting to stifle the rising tide of memories from that painful day.

It had been sunny that day, belaying the somber mood of everyone present. Evelyn Montgomery had asked Beckett to give the eulogy. And she'd agreed. The evening before the funeral, while she'd been working on the eulogy, Beckett realized that it was actually something she needed to do, not just for Montgomery's family, but also for herself. Roy Montgomery had played a big part in shaping the cop she had become. And despite some of the anger and bitterness she felt regarding his involvement with the conspiracy surrounding her mother's death, she had forgiven him.

Roy Montgomery had been a good man, flawed, but ultimately good.

She had wanted to keep her words brief, focus on what he'd taught her, but a flash of light in the distance distracted her. By the time she realized what it was, it was too late. A sharp pain struck her in the chest and she was propelled backwards, landing hard on the freshly cut grass. Every breath was a struggle as she fought to retain consciousness, but she had nothing left. There was nothing left to give her hope.

Somehow, almost miraculously, she survived. Her then-boyfriend, Josh Davidson, had done the initial life-saving work before one of his colleagues could step in to relieve him. Later, they'd told her that her heart had stopped beating on the operating table. The doctors had fought to bring her back from the brink. And they had. After nearly five hours of surgery, she'd been saved.

Yet, the Kate Beckett that awoke in the hospital bed was different than the one who'd been delivering the eulogy at Montgomery's funeral.

She'd been left shaken by the entire ordeal. Everything—from Montgomery's death to her shooting—had been a huge wake-up call for her. Despite the fact she'd been in a yearlong relationship, had a job she excelled in, she had not really been living… at least not how she wished she were. It took more courage than she imagined, but she ended her nowhere relationship with Josh, and begun the long and difficult work of putting herself together, piece by piece, searching for that illusive happiness that had long been missing in her life.

Therapy had been a big step for her. Ever since her mother's death, it had always been hard for her to talk about her feelings and emotions. But Dr. Carter Burke was great. And with his help, she managed to put herself back together, and built on that to become the person she wanted to be. She wanted to be more than who she was.

And then Rick Castle, dashing and ruggedly handsome, crashed into her world, and turned her life upside down.

It was a surprise, to be sure, but a rather welcomed one. He brought back that sense of fun and adventure that had been far too lacking in her life. He also ignited a burning passion deep inside her for life and love that had been long dormant. His love offered a partner against the darkness, someone she could lean on, and not be afraid to let see her vulnerable side.

But now she was alone, in desperate need of that support. She was inching closer and closer to falling down the rabbit hole of her mother's death. Kate Beckett needed her light. She needed Castle.

"Yo, Beckett, what are you still doing here?"

Esposito's question snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. She blinked her eyes and frowned, staring down at her hands, before craning her neck back up to glance across the bullpen at her fellow detective. Javier Esposito had always been a good and loyal friend, a brother in arms, and she could see the concern radiating out of his dark eyes.

"I just… I can't just let this one sit, Javi," she admitted softly, almost afraid to give voice to it. "It… it hits too close to home."

"Yeah, I know," Esposito sighed, stepping around his desk to stand beside her. He arched a discriminating eyebrow as he stared up at the array of what little information they'd gathered thus far. There were still a lot of holes that needed to be filled in. "It doesn't sit right, not knowing how this connects back to the captain."

"Or to me," she added, giving him a pointed look.

He shrugged. "We don't know yet," Esposito said. "Could be anything."

She pursed her lips and offered him a tight smile of gratitude. "True, but so far this one… it just doesn't feel right."

"This case isn't going to solve itself overnight, Beckett," he asserted. "Look, it's late. Honeymilk's already scurried back home to the missus. So should you. Go home and get some shuteye. Start fresh in the morning."

Beckett shook her head and looked away, eyebrows knitting together as she focused back on the board. "I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to," she admitted.

Esposito crossed his arms over his chest, and gave her a little brotherly glare. "I don't care. Stay up all night, if you want," he said. "Just go home. You need the break."

Sighing, Beckett carded her fingers through her hair, feeling the fatigue of the long day finally begin to set in. She scrubbed a hand down her face, and glanced back up at Esposito. He hadn't budge, arms still crossed, a 'I'm not taking no for an answer' look on his face. Slumping her shoulder in defeat, she gave a weak nod, and pushed herself off the edge of the desk, standing up on stiff legs.

"Fine," she grumbled, twisting around to snatch up her jacket and bag. "I'll go home."

Beckett narrowed her eyes, and slowly made her way towards the elevator. She arched her neck and looked back, only to see him still standing there, watching her like a hawk. She raised her hand up in the air in surrender.

"Okay, okay," she huffed. "I'm going." Shrugging her jacket on, Beckett marched around the barricade, heading for the elevator.

"And while you're at it, try and eat something," Esposito hollered after her.


	5. Chapter 4

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 4**

She woke up to the buzz of her alarm. With half-opened eyes, Kate Beckett groaned and stretched her arm out, slamming her palm down hard against the offending device, silencing the alarm. She rolled onto her back and rubbed her hands up and down her face, scrubbing away the blissful oblivion of dreamland. Despite the stress of the Orlando Costas case, Kate had actually had a good night's sleep. She even ate a late dinner, which had consisted of two-day-old chow mien from the Emperor's Palace. She had topped it off with a glass of red wine. And then she had curled up in bed with one of the many manuscripts she had pilfered from Castle's storage locker.

In her dreams, she was in some generic foreign locale, playing secret agent with her favorite CIA spy.

Letting out a sigh, Kate slowly sat up, the comforter bunching in her lap. She arched her back and stretched her arms up above her head, releasing a tired yawn. Blinking lazily, she leaned back towards the bedside table, and grabbed her phone; checking for any missed messages as she reclined back against her pillows, not yet ready to remove herself from the comfortable warmth of her bed.

There were three messages.

The first was from Alexis. While Castle was away, Kate made sure that she spent some time with her boyfriend's daughter. He had never asked it of her, and even though the teen was living with her grandmother, Kate still knew that Castle appreciated the fact she looked after his daughter for him when he was out of the country. Alexis was asking if they were still on for their lunch date today. Kate sighed. With this case, she'd have to cancel on the teen. She hated to do it, but with this current case, she needed to be completely focused.

The second was from her dad. Her father had been more than happy when she told him she was seeing someone. It had been an accident. They were having their monthly get together over coffee at their favorite diner, when she had let it slip that she was in the midst of planning her boyfriend's birthday party. Her dad immediately wanted to know everything about this man that had claimed his daughter's heart. And Kate did her best to tell him all she could without revealing Castle's true profession.

" _Hello, Katie… just calling to let you know that I won't be needing a ride to the airport for my flight to Chicago to deal with this class action lawsuit_ ," her father's voice resounded out of the small speaker. " _I'm hitching a lift with a co-worker. So don't worry about me. I'll call you after I check in to the hotel. Love you_."

The third and last message was from Castle. She smiled dreamily, swiping her thumb across the screen and activating the speaker. Plopping the iPhone back down on the bedside table, Kate pulled back the covers, and climbed out of bed, all the while listening to Castle's smooth and rich voice fill the room. Her spine tingled with arousal at the sound. It had been so long since she'd heard his voice. She missed it. She sighed. She missed him.

As she did her morning stretches, she listened to Castle's voice as he rambled on and on about his most recent ideas for Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook. She pursed her lips and smiled. Castle had left her a copy of the key to his storage locker, allowing her access to it while he was away. Kate had used it well, borrowing many of his manuscripts. She had become a fan of his writing. He was really quite good. Kate had already made a mental note to encourage him to seek out a publisher. His Derrick Storm books were fun and entertaining. And it was nice how the good guy always won.

So now, after having read the vast majority of his books, it was sort of thrilling that he was now including her in the creation of new characters. He constantly thanked her—in many different ways, some very, very pleasurable—for all the inspiration she provided for his Nikki Heat character. Kate bit her lower lip and shook her head as she heard him once again proclaiming his gratitude, his voice light and teasing. She could still not understand how she could inspire such creativity in him when his life was far more exciting and adventurous than hers.

"… _thinking of reworking chapter nine and ten. I need to make it more steamy, maybe even have them do body shots before Nikki leads Rook to the bedroom. Bet you remember that night, don't you_?" Castle's voice drifted around her, making her feel all giddy and happy. Oh, yes. She most definitely remembered that night… they're second night making love. She had never felt more alive. Castle wasn't yet done speaking though, and just before the message ended, he added, " _Oh… and by they way, if you haven't noticed yet, the shower's on… care to join me_?"

Kate froze halfway through the process of removing her tank top. She held her breath, and opened her ears, listening for evidence to prove what Castle had just said in the voicemail. It seemed improbable, but there it was, the soft hum of the water running through the pipes, and the thrum of the spray hitting the surface of the cast iron tub. Her heart thumped with gleeful hope and anticipation, and her mouth spread wide in a smile of pure joy and elation.

Kate did not waste another second.

She burst through her bedroom door, maneuvering through her living room. Nothing was out of place. Everything was as she had left it that morning. Kate sucked in a breath, and headed down the small hallway towards the bathroom. When she got closer, she noticed that the door was slightly ajar. The sounds of someone taking a shower drifted through the crack in the door. If it really was him, then he had the shower turned on to full blast. Without further delay, Kate pushed the door open.

A puff of hot steam billowed out around her. Kate let out a started gasp as she was struck by a blast of heat, her skin almost immediately become wet due to the high content of moisture in the air. The mirror above the sink was already fogged over. She could hear a distinctive masculine voice humming a meaningless tune. Jerking her head in that direction, she pursed her lips and turned her gaze towards the tub, seeing the faint outlines of his silhouette through the shower curtain.

With a heaving chest, almost overcome with the emotions flooding her system, Kate stepped across the threshold and fully entered the bathroom. She reached out for the shower curtain with a tentative hand, and curled her fingers around the edge. And then, she yanked it back to reveal the naked man standing, unashamed of his nudity, under the spray of hot water.

"Hey, sweet cheeks," Castle grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he used the nickname he knew she disliked, most likely because he knew it would get a rise out of her. However, this morning was different. She was so stunned and amazed to find him, standing naked in her bathroom, that she barely acknowledged the playful term of affection that she so despised. "What took you so long?"

Kate blinked her eyes rapidly, as if to reassure herself that she wasn't still dreaming or gazing at a figment of her imagination. His skin was flushed from the heat of the water spraying down on him, and Kate swallowed, her mouth watering with need and want. Her eyes greedily milked in the sight of him in all his glory.

"Castle?" she croaked out, almost afraid that at any moment she'd wake up, cold and alone in bed. "Is… is that really you?"

"Yes," he nodded, smiling at her, his eyes filling with undisguised adoration. "Yes, it's me."

"How… how'd you get in?" she stammered out, her eyebrows knitting together in an adorable frown.

He chuckled, and using his thumbs to point back towards himself. "Spy, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," she bobbed her head absently, still in a somewhat daze over the sight of him standing there, smirking at her, unashamed of his nakedness.

"Well, are you just gonna stand there gawking, or are you gonna join me?" Castle inquired with a raised eyebrow as he opened his arms to her, beckoning her to join him under the hot spray of water.

Kate couldn't hold back the beaming smile, even if she'd wanted to. She flashed him a sultry look, and yanked her tank top up and over her head, casually tossing it down on the floor. Spinning around, she curled her fingers under the waistband of her camo sleeping shorts, and slowly shimmied them down her long legs, wiggling her backside for his viewing pleasure. Her display was rewarded with a deep groan of approval from her favorite ruggedly handsome secret agent.

Turning back around, Kate ducked her head, and lifted her foot over the edge of the cast iron tub, going willingly into his waiting arms. She sighed with absolute relief as he folded his strong arms around her, hugging her close to his chest. She burrowed into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding on tight. His skin was warm to the touch. Kate could hear Castle's heart beat beneath his chest. The reverberations thumped through his entire body. He was there. Kate buried her nose in his shoulder and took a deep breath, inhaling the unique scent that was Rick Castle. He was there, and he was alive.

And he was hers.

An exuberant smile stretched her lips as she glanced up at him. His eyes sparkled back at her, the corners crinkling with joy.

"You're back," was all she could say, voice thick with emotion, raw and deep. Oh, how she had needed this—needed him. Kate swallowed and reached up, cradling his face in her trembling hands. Tilting her head to match the angle of his, she gazed up into his cobalt eyes. "You're _really_ back."

"I'm back," he echoed, his gaze soft and magnetic.

Castle placed a large hand over her chest, just above the scar blemishing the skin between her breasts. Kate breathed in deeply, mirroring his actions, placing one of her hands over his heart, and together, they stood there under the hot cascade of water, feeling the thump-thump of their linked hearts.

"It beats for you," Castle spoke softly, earnest and sincere. "Always." And then his other hand was slipping up into her hair, and he was pulling her towards him, bridging the distance between them.

Their lips collided in a heated embrace. Kate moaned and leaned into him, pressing her slender body into his broader frame. Castle's hands swept her back, skimming her spine, cupping her ass in his palms, and squeezing the toned flesh. She nipped at his lips as he spun them around, moving them under the spray of hot water. Her hands roamed his bare chest, searching amongst the various scars and cuts for any new ones. Thankfully, she found none. Her heart unclenched, and she dove back in for another kiss.

Castle hugged her close, calming her with soft and tender kisses, so full of a love that, before she met him, she had given up on ever finding. His body was warm and welcoming. Kate closed her eyes, and sighed, easing into his touch as he turned her around and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back into his strong chest. Castle dipped his head down and pressed a soft kiss against the curve of her shoulder. She shivered, and arched her neck, seeking out his mouth, wanting and needing to kiss him.

He readily complied, meeting her halfway.

His hands moved, roaming up and down her soft and pliant body. Her eyelids fluttered closed as she basked in the feel of his knowing touch. Castle was a man of many talents, and she was more than happy to be the recipient of said talents. He palmed one of her breasts, and she arched up into his touch. Kate licked her lips and craned her neck, glancing back at Castle with hooded eyes. He waggled his eyebrows at her, flashing her a teasing grin, before he claimed her mouth in a soaring kiss. His hand on her chest squeezed playfully, distracting her while the other traveled southward along her undulating body, and easily slipped down between her parted legs.

XXX

He liked to toy with his prey. It was one of the perks of the job. He had always been good at administrating torture. He had been highly trained in many techniques, making him extremely valuable to those who had employed him. But then the pesky politicians back home decided to grow a conscience and pretend they actually had morals. They didn't understand. The war he, and others like him, were fighting was a constant struggle, where soldiers had to be willing to make sacrifices to achieve victory.

So he went rogue, and decided to go freelance. If there was anything better than killing for your country, it was killing for money. And at least his clients weren't as squeamish about getting their hands dirty.

He glanced over at his target. The distinguished man from earlier was looking a little worse for ware. He had him bound to a chair in the middle of the room. They had been at it all night. And now the man was bruised and bloody, finding each breath a struggle.

Shaking his head, he clenched his fingers into fists and shifted his stance before his prey. He wasn't done yet.

"You're putting yourself through this for nothing," he spoke confidently, in an icy tone of voice. "We both know how it will end. Don't make me take this to the next level." He paused for a beat. "Just tell me where the file is."

The man coughed and shook his head, before glaring up at his tormenter.

"Go to hell!" the man grunted out.

He didn't react. He simply stared at the man, not at all surprised by his stubborn refusal to cooperate. It was almost boring. He calmly reached forward and pulled one of the man's fingers back, snapping it. The sharp sound of bones breaking reverberated through out the top-story penthouse. A thin smile spread across his face as he watched the man strive not to scream.

It was a losing battle.

XXX

One hour and two rounds later, they laid thoroughly sated in her bed. The duvet was bunched up, half hanging off the foot of the mattress, and the bed sheets were tousled and rumpled from their vigorous and enthusiastic activities. Kate sighed in contentment, nestling into Castle's side as her fingers absently drew meaningless patterns across his sweat slick chest. She couldn't help but grin happily as she stretched, arching her back like a satisfied house cat after a good brushing.

This morning had been an unexpected, yet pleasant surprise, and she loved it. She was sore in all the right places. And it felt great. Kate gazed up at Castle. The ruggedly handsome spy wore a blissfully contented expression. It made her grin all the wider, knowing that it was her that had put that look on his face. Giggling happily, Kate shifted, moving up to claim his mouth in another kiss, molding her nude form to his. She hummed approvingly into his mouth as his hand slipped down her back until it came to rest along the curve of her ass. He gave the toned flesh a slight squeeze and reciprocated her kiss, lazily drinking from her lips.

"Missed me?" she asked as she leaned back, batting her eyelashes, feigning bashfulness.

"Everyday," he stated with such a warmth in his eyes and sincerity in his voice that Kate had to remind herself to breathe. No man had ever made her feel this way. He treated her like she was everything to him. And though they hadn't spent as much time together as she would have liked since that first night after Ryan's wedding, Kate had never felt more secure or safe in a relationship.

She swallowed and averted her gaze, drumming out a swirling pattern across his chest with her fingertips. "How long can you stay?"

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer into his side. "To be honest, I'm not sure," he answered after a long pause. "Yesterday, I was summoned back to Langley for a debriefing that turned more into an inquisition."

"What!?" she jerked up and cast a concerned look at him. "Why? What about?"

Castle frowned, not looking at her, staring hard up at the ceiling. "I asked you this several months ago, but you might have been too sex dazed to really understand what I was asking… but, does the name Rogan O'Leary mean anything to you?"

"Um… yeah," she knitted her eyebrows together, confused. "He's an old boyfriend. I went with him for a little while during my freshman year at Stanford. It was a long time ago. Ancient history. Why do you ask?"

"Did you know that you were married to him?" Castle questioned.

She wanted to laugh, act like he was making some bad joke, but his blank expression told her he was serious. "What… no… no, you've got to be kidding," she shook her head. "I'm not married."

"I saw the marriage license, Kate. I'm not making this up," Castle said, somewhat defensively.

"No, no, Rick… I'm not accusing you of lying," she sighed, pushing her tousled hair back from her face. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around this."

"1998, 'Drive Through Chapel of Love' in Las Vegas. Ring any bells?"

Kate sat up, and reached for the sheets, pulling it up to cover nakedness. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a pitiful groan. "Oh, God… I think I'm going to be sick."

Castle shifted beside her as he sat up. Kate almost flinched when she felt his hand on her back, but she could not deny the comfort she received from the soothing motion of his hand as he rubbed her back.

"I never thought it was for real!" she objected, her insides a mixture of confusion and turmoil. "And I broke up with the guy a couple of weeks later, after I found out he was a compulsive liar, degenerate, and a thief."

"Yeah, but not before you tied the knot," Castle chuckled softly, patting her back.

She growled and glared at him.

"Sorry," he said, his smile turning flat. "But it's not all bad. I have some good news."

"Like what?" she groaned. Kate's day had just gone from good to bad. Even though she trusted Castle, she didn't see how there could be any good news from all of this.

"Before I surprised you at your friend's wedding, I took a trip to upstate New York and had some words with Mr. O'Leary," Castle explained at length, his hand continuing to rub soothing patterns along her bare back. She closed her eyes and eased into his touch, listening to him as he spoke. "And wow! Like… WOW! You've got some pretty interesting taste in men, because I honestly don't know what you ever saw in that scoundrel."

"It was during my rebellious phase," Kate interjected. "Trust me, not one of my finest decisions."

"Anyways, I had a talk with Rogan," Castle said after a shrug. "Turns out he really hasn't changed much. He's got a girlfriend that he's too afraid to commit to. He was using your marriage as an excuse." He paused, and chuckled again. "You were his coma wife."

"His—what!?" exclaimed Kate, the fire returning to her eyes. She noticed Castle's eyes darken. She narrowed his eyes at him.

"Hey," he held up his hands in surrender. "No need to get mad at me—though you _are_ cute when you're angry, but not when you're angry at me."

She growled in response.

"But, don't worry, sweet cheeks," he teased, patting her shoulder, earning another withering glare from her. "I took care of it."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "No. Oh… oh… god no. Tell me you didn't have him killed?"

"What!?" he hooted in surprise, glancing at her with a stunned expression. "God no." He shook his head. "Nothing of the sort. It took some _convincing_ , but I got him to sign a dissolution of marriage contract."

"A dissolution of marriage contract?" she echoed, too stunned to say anything else. This conversation was giving her whiplash. She wasn't sure she could keep up with all the information, nor the implications of it all.

"Yeah," Castle bobbed his head. "I got you an annulment. It was surprisingly easy… but then again, not many men have my talents… now do they?" He finished that last sentence with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

The corners of Kate's lips tugged upwards, and she shook her head, conceding the point. "No… no they don't," she agreed, bumping shoulders with him.

He grinned at her, and reached up to brush some of her tousled hair away from her face, before settling his hand along her cheek. "I'd do anything to be with you, Kate," he admitted in a soft voice. "All you have to do is ask." He leaned forward and kissed her.

Kate sighed, easing into his embrace, willing to just let herself be swept away in the moment. This morning had definitely been a rollercoaster of emotions. She was extremely touched by what he had done. In an odd sort of way, it was strangely romantic. Learning she'd been married—to Rogan O'Leary, of all people—was still a terrible shock, but a least she had the comfort in knowing it had been made null and void thanks to the annulment Castle had procured for her. She still had questions, like… how did he get her signature for those documents? But at present, Kate Beckett was content to live in the moment and relish the way Rick Castle loved her. Everything else was moot next to his love.

Everything but… the case!

Kate pulled back from Castle, and arched her neck to glance over at the alarm clock. "Shit, I'm late!" she hissed through gritted teeth. She rolled out of bed, leaping to her feet and making a mad dash for her closet, leaving a befuddled Castle behind in her bed.

"Can't you call in and take a day?" he called after her, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, the sheets bundled up around his lap to conceal his arousal. Kate groaned inwardly, hating that she was leaving him hanging, but this case… it was important.

"I'm sorry," she said, flashing him a contrite expression when she turned back around after she'd managed to tug on a fresh pair of panties. "I'll explain later. I promise." She ran back to him, putting her hands on his shoulders for support as she leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her perplexed boyfriend's lips before she rushed back to her closet.

With any luck, she and the boys would have this case wrapped up by the end of the day, and then she and Castle could start planning a romantic getaway.


	6. Chapter 5

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 5**

"You sure I can't change your mind?"

He watched as she shrugged on her blazer, pausing momentarily to recheck the time on the watch—clunky and masculine—she wore on her wrist. It was her father's watch. She had told him how she wore it as a reminder of the life she saved, just as she wore her mother's ring around her neck as a reminder of the life she'd lost. He liked to think that he helped with that. Her life wasn't so full of grief as it once had been. Nor was it dull. And from the bemused smirk gracing her lips and the unhidden look of adoration she cast his way when she glanced up, Rick Castle felt confident in the positive effect his presence had in Kate Beckett's life.

She looked so beautiful when she allowed herself to be happy.

"Sorry, Rick," she offered with a slight apologetic expression, stepping closer and letting her hand coast up the curve of his shoulder and neck. Her eyes flicked down to his lips before returning to his. "It is tempting, but this case… it's important. And I'm already running late."

He gave a nod. "I understand."

She nodded her gratitude and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Thank you," she smiled warmly, brushing her hand down along his cheek and jaw. "Be here when I get off?"

"Oh, I most definitely plan on being present when you get off, Detective," he chuckled with an exaggerated leer, putting emphasis on the double entendre. Intentionally or not, she'd set that up for him. How could he resist?

"That's not what I meant, Castle," Kate rolled her eyes, but smiled just the same.

"Not the ringing endorsement I was looking for," he feigned a pout.

Kate laughed, her eyes glistened with mirth and he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful she was when she laughed. Her fingertips ran along the collar of his shirt. "I'll make up for it later."

"Promise?"

She hummed in the affirmative. "Promise."

Before she could escape his grasp, he pulled her towards him, bracketing her hips with his large hands. Kate let out a hot breath against his neck, and tilted her head up to look at him. He closed the distance, allowing all his feelings for this extraordinary woman to seep into the kiss. Castle squeezed his hands around her waist as he tugged her slender frame closer to his. One hand boldly slip just low enough down her back that it had her reaching behind her to pull it back up before he was able to get a firm hold. She shook her head at his not so subtle attempt to once again change her mind. He offered a feigned smile of contrition, not at all sorry for attempting to delay her departure.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," she promised, twisting her torso around to retrieve her bag from the credenza. He feigned a pout and followed her towards the front door. "Call if you need anything. And no snooping through my stuff."

Castle chuckled. "Need I remind you, I've already seen your stuff," he said with a leer, earning an eye roll from her. He winked and assured her that if he needed anything or got bored, he'd give her a call. "Now go. Catch the bad guys."  
She grinned, and it seemed she couldn't resist surging forward for one last kiss, which he heartily approved. He dropped his hands to his hips as she curled her arms around his neck and molded her body into perfect alignment with his. Oh, she was so going to be the death of him. When she pulled away it was almost reluctant, like she was reconsidering his offer to stay, but unfortunately for him, her willpower was strong. She promised to call him when she took her lunch break, and then she was gone, trusting him to lock up the place behind her.

With Kate gone for the day, Castle turned back around and made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed his duffel bag on the way, plopping it down on the small table. Unzipping it, he retrieved a flat gray device from within. Flipping open the TCD-74 he'd kept despite the Agency issuing him the newer 188 model, Castle punched in a number he'd memorized. Contrary to Kate's belief, he did have other things to do other than sit around her apartment, snooping, as tempting as that may be.

The call was answered after the seventh ring.

" _Hello_?" came a familiar, yet groggy voice.

Castle smiled. "Good morning, Mother. Did I wake you?"

XXX

He entered the kitchen and stepped over to the sink. Turning the faucet onto full blast, he ran his blood-coated hands under the hot water. It had taken him longer than he would have liked, but he had eventually managed to extract the information he required from his target. He now knew where to locate the file his client wanted. He was promised a significant bonus for quick delivery, and he intended on collecting.

Finished with washing his hands, he turned the faucet, stopping the flow of water. He dried his hands on a washcloth. He had no qualms with leaving behind trace DNA or fingerprints. Long ago, thanks to his association with the CIA, such records had been expunged from the system. Someone would have to dig deep and call in a lot of favors to get close to identifying even just one of his many aliases.

Walking back into the room, he stared at the man, still strapped to the chair. The man stared back defiantly, breath labored, yet steady.

"You won't win," the man coughed, blood trickling down his chin.

He shook his head at the man's continued stubborn denial. "That is where you are wrong, Mr. Smith," he said, stepping over to the table and picking up his gun. He slowly screwed the silencer onto the barrel. "I've already won."

He lifted the weapon and fired five shots; three center mass in the chest, and the final two, straight between the eyes. Smith's body convulsed for but a moment, before slumping back against the chair limply. Dead. Smiling to him, he unscrewed the silencer, tucking it—along with his gun—back into his bag, before packing up the rest of his things. He slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the door, pausing for only a moment to glance back at Michael Smith's dead body. A thin smile tugged at his lips as he thought of the hidden message he'd left for Detective Kate Beckett.

And if he were lucky, Beckett would drag Richard Castle into the mix. Then he could deal with them both at once—two birds with one stone—for very different reasons, but each hopefully with the same outcome. Dead. But first, he had to toy with them. That was always the fun part, playing with the food. It made the meal all the more satisfying. At least, that was his humble opinion.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket as he opened the door.

The games were just beginning.

XXX

The door opened slowly.

"Oh, Richard, darling… it's you," she groaned, squinting in the bright light, pulling the door back fully and letting him into the loft.

Castle grinned at the sight of his redheaded mother. By the looks of it, she'd had a long night. "I didn't wake you, did I?" he chuckled.

"Laugh it up, kiddo," Martha shot back as she tucked her bright neon green robe tighter around her slim figure. "Just wait a couple of years, and you'll find out just how hard it is after a long night of—"

"Please, Mother, spare me the details," he said, holding up his hands to stop her. "Because I really don't want to know."

"Oh, come now, Richard," Martha shook her head at him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Not like you and Katherine didn't spend the morning 'making up for lost time'."

He grimaced, and turned around to shut the front door. Martha flashed him one of her charming smiles, and winked knowingly at him, before sweeping back into her loft. Castle followed behind her.

"By the way, how is that girl doing?" she asked. "I know her and Alexis have a lunch planned today."

"They do?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Funny, Kate didn't mention that."

"Perhaps she forgot, you know… because of all the sex!" Martha chuckled lightly, and then winced, bringing a hand up to rub her forehead.

Castle groaned, and gave his hungover mother a pointed look. "Just how much alcohol did you consume last night?"

"Enough," Martha declared, moving around in her kitchen. "There's some aspirin in the en suite. Would you be a doll and get it for me?"

"So long as you stop talking about anything to do with sex," he negotiated.

"Deal, kiddo," Martha surrendered easily.

"Thank you," he said, stepping around to wrap one arm around her shoulders in a half-hug, before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Martha hummed in appreciation. He smiled. Despite how dramatic and blunt she could be at times, he really did love his mother. There was no one else like her. "Just sit tight, Mother. We'll have you back to your usual dramatic self in no time."

XXX

Beckett hustled off the elevator when it finally arrived on the homicide floor. She cautiously glanced around, searching for her colleagues. Finding no sign of them, she let out of breath of relief and made a beeline for her desk, ignoring the bemused expressions cast her way from some of the other detectives and officers on duty. During the majority of her drive from her apartment, Beckett had been fretting about the ribbing her co-workers would give her for coming in so late. Plus, she was worried that the happy, satisfied glow from having made love—several times—with her boyfriend would make the reason for her tardiness all the more apparent. And she really wasn't in the mood for the boys' teasing.

She had just set her bag down on her desk when she caught sight of Ryan and Esposito exiting interrogation room one. Esposito was the first to notice her.

"Hey, Beckett," he hollered, taking the lead and striding over to her desk as she hurriedly collected herself, preparing for anything they might throw at her. "Where have you been? You do know that when I suggested you take a break last night, I didn't really expect you to take my advice."

"Yeah," his cohort said, checking his watch. "It's nearly ten. You're usually in by six or seven."

Esposito nodded his agreement, sitting down on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. He tilted his head, giving her a once over. "Sleep okay?" he asked.

Beckett shot him a look, and then proceeded with booting up her computer. "As a matter of fact, yes," she said with a small nod, unable to suppress a smile as she remembered her morning with Castle. "I even had something to eat."

"Did a lot more than eat, judging by that smile of yours," Esposito noted. "Let me guess, boyfriend's back in town."

"Hmm," she hummed, going for nonchalant, but failing. "Something like that."

Esposito shook his head, but didn't press, knowing that was as much as he would ever get out of her. She pursed her lips and smirked.

"So, what have you two been up to this morning?" she asked.

"Our canvas of the neighborhood finally picked up something," Ryan said, stepping over to the white board. Beckett adjusted her stance, and looked up at the timeline, quickly noticing that some additions had been made.

"Yeah, we may have been wrong about why they hit Montgomery's," Esposito added in a low voice after a brief pause.

Beckett inclined her head, indicating for them to continue.

Ryan nodded. "Right… so witnesses saw a Hispanic male fleeing the alley in an old maroon Cadillac DeVille. Apparently he had gang ink on his neck." He pointed towards an artist rendering of the witness's description. "A lion framed by a C."

"Cazadore?" Beckett asked, furrowing her brow.

"They very same gang our victim ran with," Esposito confirmed.

"Gangs," she mumbled to herself, glancing down momentarily. A weight that had been sitting on her shoulders since yesterday finally lifted. If Orlando Costas was killed by someone from his former gang, then this case had nothing to do with her shooting or her mother's murder. The connection to Montgomery was just a coincidence. She let out a soft breath, feeling lighter than before. Not even her wonderful reunion with Castle had fully alleviated that burden. Taking a deep breath to collect herself, she raised her eyes back to the white board.

"If this guy was in that alley…," she started, but her voice trailed off as she narrowed her eyes at the timeline.

Esposito nodded, finishing her statement, "Odds are he killed Orlando."

"Did we get a license plate?" she questioned, that familiar feeling of catching a lead itching her skin.

"Uh, no," Ryan shook his head, but held up his hand to forestall any grumbling from her. "But according to the gang task force, the ride matches the car of one Vincente Delgato, high-level shot caller for the Cazadores. And get this, his cousin, Diego Gutierrez, was busted by Montgomery for a double homicide in 1995."

"His lawyer filed a motion for a retrial a month after Montgomery was killed," Esposito added.

"Find him," Beckett said.

"Well, you arrived just in time, Beckett," Esposito grinned at her, and gestured towards the interrogation room they had just exited. "We already did. Figured you'd like to handle the interrogation."

Beckett returned his smile. "You bet I do."

XXX

Castle sat in the armchair and watched as his mother took a big gulp of water. She laid reclined on the sofa, head resting on a collection of pillows of various shades of purple and pink. She closed her eyes and sighed. He took the opportunity to study her. For a woman who liked to party hard and late into the night, she'd aged considerably well, in his humble opinion as her son. Yes, she had some wrinkles, and her hair really wasn't red anymore. She had already begun to lose some of her natural coloring before he was recruited by the CIA. Still, despite the years, she was still a handsome woman.

Martha placed the glass down on the coffee table, and moaned as she relaxed back into the pillows.

"Feeling better?"

"Yes, darling, much," Martha replied, her voice quieter than normal and less dramatic. She squinted one eye open and glanced his way. "Not that I'm not grateful for the company, Richard, but why aren't you still in bed with Katherine?" Her lips quirked up and an amused expression worked its way into her tired features. "Heaven knows that girl deserves it for all the waiting you've put her through."

"Mother!"

"What!?" she hooted in reply, gazing across at him with both eyes now. "Are you two having a lover's quarrel or something like that?"

"No," he said calmly, shaking his head to dismiss that notion. "Nothing like that. Kate just needed to go into work. She's a detective, remember?"

"Of course I remember, I'm not senile yet!" objected Martha with her customary vim and vigor.

He suppressed a grin. Oh, he loved his mother. He had no clue who his father was, but he had no doubt that he got most, if not all, of his personal strength from his mother. He glanced around the loft, looking for evidence that a teenager lived there. Finding such things conspicuously absent, he turned back to his mother, a frown working its way onto his face.

"Alexis at school?"

"Yes," his mother replied, leaning back into her mountain of pillows. "She got an early acceptance to Columbia. And has already enrolled in some courses. It amazes me, Richard, that she is even related to you… or me, for that matter. I would never had thought our genes capable of producing a genius."

"Well, to be fair, her mother's genes played a part, too," Castle supplied hesitantly, still, even after all this time, he found it difficult to talk about his daughter's biological mother. His relationship with Meredith hadn't been one of his better moments. Though, he wouldn't change it for the world, especially when he got Alexis out of it. He hadn't known his daughter for long, but he already loved her as a father should love a daughter.

"Bah," Martha waved a hand in dismissal. "Alexis is all Rodgers."

"You'll get no argument from me," he smiled.

Martha shifted on the cushions and looked him over with the knowing eye of a parent. "Why are you really here, Richard? What is going on?"

Castle swallowed and looked down, wringing his hands together. He should have known. Even when he was a child, he could never really fool his mother.

Groaning softly, Martha pushed herself up to a sitting position. She rubbed her forehead, and then reached out for him, placing a motherly hand on his knee and giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Richard, please, talk to me," she said. "I'm your mother, and I love you. You need not fear any judgment."

He nodded, placing a hand over hers and squeezing it back in return. He closed his eyes and heaved in a deep breath. "I haven't told Kate this yet," he started to ramble. "She knows some of the story, but not all of it—she's got enough on her plate at the moment; I didn't want her worrying."

"Richard, darling," Martha soothed, ignoring her own hangover pains to be his mother. "It'll be okay. What is it?"

Castle pursed his lips and narrowed his brow as he regarded his mother. It was probably unwise to divulge this to her, especially considering it was classified information, but he had to tell someone. Even after all the debriefings and all the times he had had to recount the events to his CIA superiors, it still gnawed at him, still… disturbed him. It was unsettling and troubling. He couldn't continue keeping it stifled. He had to talk about it. And there was no one—saved Kate—that he trusted more than his mother. He looked Martha in the eyes, and told her about what happened in Istanbul.

XXX

"You're crazy!" Vincente Delgato shouted. "You ain't got nothing on me."

"You were carrying a 9mm when we picked you up," Esposito said, sliding down into the chair next to her, both of them staring hard at the man sitting across the table from them. "Just like the gun that killed Orlando Costas."

Vincente growled, glaring at Esposito like a caged animal. "I already told you. I was nowhere near that alley. Fact is your witnesses are blind."

"The fact is, you knew Orlando Costas," Beckett interjected, voice hard and firm. Her tone was harsh, but calm. She was determined to get a confession. Vincente, on the other hand, wasn't so calm. He was seething with barely restrained rage, leaning forward in his chair as he responded to their questions.

"Yeah, I knew him," he conceded. "Once. Before he turned his back."

"When was the last time you heard from him?" Esposito questioned.

"Not in years," Vincente said, his eyes flicking over to him.

"Hours!" Beckett shouted, slamming her palm down on the table, silencing him. She was done with his bullshit. The thug turned to look back at her with an assessing gaze. She got that a lot from scum like him. Her good looks often resulted in perps underestimating her abilities, thinking that she was just a pretty face. And boy, were they wrong. She steeled her gaze as his eyes met hers. "Just before he was killed Orlando called a burner cell, same phone that we found on you. So why don't you just admit to it and save yourself thirty years?"

Diego narrowed his eyes.

Beckett leaned forward slightly, wearing one of her most intimidating expressions. "Admit it. You had him break in to Roy Montgomery's house and steal your cousin's case files and then you shot him."

"What you got, chica? Huh?" Vincente scoffed. "The gun's not going to be a match. So that leaves you with what? A phone call? A couple people saw a very common car. You want to know why you can't pin this on me, chica? I wasn't there."

"The hell you weren't!" Beckett snapped, close to losing her temper. Thankfully, she was rained back in before doing something foolish when someone knocked on the door, probably Ryan. Esposito stood up slowly and headed for the door. "That's gonna be ballistics. Last chance to make a deal," she said, confident in the case they were building against the thug.

Vincente Delgato just stared back, not at all intimidated.

She narrowed her eyes. "We'll be back," she asserted, and then she gathered her papers and headed for the door Esposito was holding open for her.

Beckett followed her colleague into the observation room, where Ryan was waiting for them, an opened folder in his hands. He looked like a wounded puppy. Unsure what that was about, she carried on as if everything was normal.

"Book him on the drugs and weapons charge," she stated, on a mission. "And tell the DA I'm going to want to file for murder 1."

"It wasn't him," Ryan said in a meek voice, almost as if he was afraid to voice what he'd learned from the files in his hands.

Beckett blinked, startled back to the present. She turned her eyes to him in surprise. "What do you mean it wasn't him?"

"The skin tissue that Lanie was able to scrape from underneath our victim's fingernails, the lab was able to pull DNA," Ryan explained, looking warily at her. "We ran it against Vincente. It's not a match. In fact, it wasn't a match to anyone in the system."

"What?" she gasped, exchanging a surprised look with Esposito.

"Dude, that can't be," he said. "Vincente Delgato, he's are guy. You saw how angry he was with Costas for turning his back on the gang."

"I know, Javi," Ryan sighed. "But DNA doesn't lie."

Beckett growled, stalking away from the observation window, turning her back to her colleagues and raking her fingers through her hair. This wasn't happening. She needed this case closed. The last twenty-four hours had been taxing on her, especially when they found a connection to Montgomery. It had pulled up too many painful memories. She just needed it over and done with, so she could plan a weekend getaway with Castle and just leave all this mess behind her for a couple of days. She desperately needed the time away to recharge and reacquaint herself with all the wonderful things being with Rick Castle did for her soul.

"Well, did they find anything?" she heard Esposito ask.

She turned around to meet Ryan's eyes as he held up the file.

"Yeah," he said. "They did manage to match the DNA trace evidence to another crime scene."

Becket took the file from him, lowering her eyes as she began to scan the printouts. "Well at least that's something. What was the crime scene?"

"Beckett," Ryan said, voice soft and cautious. The tone threw her off, and she jerked her head up to look at him. He wore an apologetic expression. "It was your shooting."

She felt her heart constrict as if it had just been struck a blow. Her breath blew out of her lungs and the surgical scar along her side throbbed. The bullet wound in the center of her chest pulled, and she grimaced, working to suppress the ache. "What!?" she gasped out, staring at Ryan with disbelieving, hurt, and confused eyes.

"DNA confirms that the man who killed Orlando Costas in that alley is the same man who put a bullet in your heart," Ryan elaborated, looking about as sorry as anyone could be. His blue eyes were wide with regret at having to break this news to her.

"No. No," she all but whimpered, unable to wrap her head around the news. She had just started thinking this case had nothing to do with her or her mother's murder, and now this… it was almost like being struck by a bullet all over again. She duck her head down, hiding the rising tide of tears from her colleagues. She despised showing weakness. "I… I need a moment," she mumbled, pushing past them and out the door.

Beckett stumbled out into the hallway, nearly slamming into the wall. Her shoulder struck against the hard surface, and she gritted her teeth, welcoming the pain that rippled through, diluting the raw ache in her chest. She shoved away from the wall and made her way around the corner, slumping down into one of the chairs set up in the hallway for waiting visitors. She slumped her shoulder and buried her head in her hands.

Her heart pounded fiercely beneath her ribcage, and she drew in a series of shuttering breaths in an attempt to calm herself. Sitting back, Beckett shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out her phone. She swiped through her contacts, and selected the name of the one person she knew could help her, the one person she had come to trust more than anyone else.

He answered after only one ring.

"Rick," she nearly sobbed out, bringing a hand up to hold over her mouth.

" _Kate? What is it?_ " came her boyfriend's concerned reply.

"I… I need you."


	7. Chapter 6

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 6**

He was worried.

Kate Beckett was a strong woman, probably the strongest woman he had ever met. So her sobbing, pleading tone when she had called him earlier, worried him. Something really unsettling must have happened to cause her to call him like that. From earlier today, he knew that her current case was important to her. But now he was getting the feeling that it was bigger than she had let on. Whatever it was, Castle was determined to stand by her side and help in whichever way he could.

"Hey, here you go," the cute blonde behind the counter said, snapping him out of his thoughts. "That's a large cappuccino for Rick and a large skinny latte, two pumps sugar free vanilla for Kate, right?"

"Perfect," he replied with a nod, flashing her a polite smile. "Thank you very much."

The barista smiled back at him and he retrieved the cups, turned around and maneuvered his way around the people in business and casual attire, all waiting in the queue to order their midday hit of caffeine. The coffee shop was surprisingly full. Thankfully the staff was efficient, otherwise his impromptu decision to stop by on his way to the precinct would have delayed his arrival much longer than he would have liked considering his girlfriend's distress over the phone.

Castle adjusted his hold on the two coffee cups, but paused for a brief second as he reached for the push bar to open the door. Something had caught his attention as he'd walked away from the counter. He tilted his head slightly and scanned the crowded coffee shop. His eyebrows knitted together as he surveyed the seating area.

There was a couple, college age, sipping Frappuccinos and whispering to each other. There was an older woman, probably his mother's age, sipping from her large cup as she read from an opened hardcover novel laid out in front of her. There were a handful of people all staring down at their cellphones. There were at least two students with their laptops, taking advantage of the store's free WiFi. An elderly man was having coffee and chatting with a woman young enough to be his daughter, though was clearly not, judging by the way his hand rested on her thigh. And there was a group of women, middle aged, looking like they were having a monthly book meeting.

Shaking his head, Castle looked away. He could have sworn he had caught a glimpse of someone or something familiar. Having seen nothing to pique his curiosity—or paranoia—he pushed down on the bar and the door opened. It was probably just his imagination. Or paranoia. After all, he had just spent the last hour reviewing what had happened in Istanbul with his mother. He made a mental note to remind himself to discuss it with Kate, as well, but later. Right now, whatever was distressing her came first. With one last wary glance inside the busy coffee shop, he made his departure. Still, even as he stepped out into the sunny sidewalk, Castle couldn't shake off that odd sense of familiarity.

XXX

Damn.

That had been close.

Too close.

He ducked his head back up from behind the laptop, watching with narrowed eyes as Agent Rick Castle walked out of the coffee shop. Out of all the places the man could have stopped to get coffee, he had to choose this one. Shaking his head, Johann Kriedt adjusted the hoodie around his thin frame, pulling the hood up to conceal his features further.

He checked the time on his wristwatch, and sighed—only twenty more minutes until his appointment with Mistress Crimson. Being held captive by the United States government for the past seven months hadn't really provided him with the opportunity to satisfy in any of his favorite indulgences. Besides, after the last couple of weeks, he was in desperate need of a stress reliever that a normal dalliance wouldn't achieve, at least not for him. Thankfully, Mistress Crimson had been able to squeeze him in.

Johann Kriedt shrugged, shivering with anticipation at the mere thought of his favorite BDSM proprietress. And Mistress Crimson was the best. He'd been careful in setting up the appointment, mindful of the last time he'd been caught while visiting one of the dungeons in New York City. This time, he felt confident that neither the FBI nor the CIA would be able to disrupt his fun.

The shrill sound of his phone interrupted his seedy thoughts.

"Yes," he snapped.

" _We have a change of plan_ s," came the Knave's voice. " _Sorry, Johann, I'm afraid you'll have to cancel your little appointment_."

XXX

Kate Beckett was sitting on the edge of her desk when he stepped out of the elevator. Her body was slumped in a defeated fashion, like the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders. Her gaze was locked on the white board, which was covered in a timeline, notes, and crime scene photos. He recognized the photo of a distinguished African American man in uniform.

It was Roy Montgomery. Kate's former captain.

She had been shot while giving the eulogy at his funeral. Kate had still been recovering, mostly mentally, from the incident when he'd come into her life. He could still vividly remember the vulnerable look in her eyes when she'd first bared her scars to him. He knew that it still haunted her, that she still had nightmares of getting shot and not waking up. He had hoped the worse was behind her, however, considering the emotional state she was now in, it appeared that it wasn't.

Castle sighed as he watched her, hesitating but a moment to collect himself, before stifling away his own worried in favor of hers. His own concerns and frustrations with Operation Looking Glass and what happened in Istanbul would have to wait. At the moment, Kate was the priority. She came first. Her burdens were now his burdens.

As he walked towards her, Castle glanced around the bullpen. It was relatively quiet, and he supposed that had to do with the hour. Most detectives were probably on their lunch break. He eased down beside her, resting his backside against the flat surface of her desk.

"Coffee," he offered in a low, reassuring voice.

Kate blinked her eyes and glanced up at him, smiling softly as she accepted the coffee cup from his proffered hand. "Thank you," she answered in a quiet voice, closing her eyes as she inhaled the rich aroma of her latte. She took a delicate sip, and he watched as her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Even in this state, haunted and dejected, Kate Beckett was an extraordinarily beautiful woman.

Twisting his torso, he reached behind his back and placed his own cup down. "Hey," he spoke in a soft voice to regain her attention.

"Hmm?" she hummed in response, still lost.

"Kate," he said her name, snapping her out of wherever it was she'd gone to inside her head. She looked up at him with large eyes. "You're not in this alone. I'm here."

A soft smile touched her face as she stared up at him, and the clouds that had been covering her eyes receded. "I know," she said, glancing down and reaching for his hand. He accepted, holding her hand tightly in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly over her knuckles.

Kate canted slightly into his side, releasing a long held breath, and the tension in her shoulders seemed to abate. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back, holding onto him like a vice. Castle smiled tightly, watching as she took comfort from his presence, her strength returning to her. Something had happened, and he was dying to know what, but he chose to remained silent and waited her out, let her tell him when she was ready.

"Castle?" she furrowed her brow as she looked up at him. "What time it is?"

"Um…," he twisted their joined hands around to glance at the watch on her wrist. "Just after twelve."

"Oh," she blinked, almost numbly. "I was supposed to meet up with Alexis for lunch, but… I… I don't think—"

"Don't worry about it," Castle assured her, reaching inside his pocket with his free hand and retrieving his phone. He flipped the device open and sent a text message to his daughter. Kate watched his movements with large eyes; the ghost of a smile worked its way across her tired features. He tucked the TCD-74 back inside his pocket and looked back, noticing her expression. "What?"

"Nothing," she smiled a little more, and it did him good to see that it reached her eyes. "It… it's your phone. It's just kind of silly. With all the advanced technology you have at your disposal, you still carry around that old thing."

He made a harrumphing sound, shrugging his shoulders. "If it works, why replace it?" he asked rhetorically. She answered with a smile, leaning further into his side. He tilted his head, brushing a kiss against her temple. She sighed at the touch. "Want to tell me what all this is about?"

She nodded slightly. And then, in a quiet voice, told him. "The man who killed our victim," she gestured towards the white board and the photo with the name 'Orlando Costas' written beneath it in neat tight handwriting.

"Yes?"

Slowly, as if it was painful, Kate raised her free hand and placed it over her chest. "He's the same man who did this," she said, shakily. "No leads for 11 months and now this." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, averting her eyes. "I… I don't know what to do, Castle."

"Hey, it's okay," he attempted to reassure her, squeezing her hand again, and using his free hand to nudge her chin up so that their eyes met. "I'll tell you what you do, you find this bastard and you bring him to justice. Because, Kate, that's what you do. Most people come up against a wall, they give up. Not you. You don't let go. You don't back down. That's what makes you extraordinary."

She stared up into his eyes, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to disagree with him, but then the lingering clouds of doubt parted, and left behind the steely resolve and determination that made Kate Beckett one of the best detectives he'd ever seen. Of course, he'd freely admit that he might be a little bias on that assertion. After all, he was madly in love with the woman.

Kate clutched his hand in hers. "Will you stay and help me?"

"If that is what you want," he said, nodding. "But, Kate… what are we going to tell your colleagues?"

She frowned and glanced down for a moment as she considered the situation. When she looked back up, an amused smile was forming its way across her lips. "They think you're a writer," she pointed out. "So we'll just go with that, say you had some writer's block and needed some inspiration, and I agreed to let you shadow me for the afternoon."

Castle knitted his eyebrows together as he mulled over her suggestion. "Are you sure about that?" he questioned, dubious of the cover story. It somehow didn't ring true to him, especially under the circumstances. "A writer and his muse fighting crime. I mean, doesn't that sound kind of ridiculous."

Kate shrugged. "I think it's romantic."

He grinned. The premise was a little absurd, but crazier things happen all the time. "It would probably make a great TV show."

She hummed in agreement, smiling broadly, the vulnerable and haunted look finally lifting from her eyes. "The best."

They stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. It amazed him that even after all this time apart that initial spark of attraction which he had felt that very first time they'd met was still there, and stronger than ever. They were like the opposite ends of a magnet. Always drawn towards one another.

"If you're talking about the coffee in the break room, then I'd have to disagree," an amused voiced broke through, disturbing their moment.

Kate withdrew her hand from his almost immediately, nonchalantly spreading her palm out against her thigh. Furrowing his brow, Castle arched his neck to glance over his shoulder, seeing a Hispanic man, dressed in a red polo shirt and dark gray cargo pants, a detective's badge hanging around his neck, coming up to stand alongside Beckett's desk. The man looked him up and down with an assessing gaze, before turning his focus to Kate, and quirking up an eyebrow.

"Boyfriend's back?"

"Told you he was real," Kate replied with a triumphant smirk, playfully punching the man in the shoulder with her fist. "You remember Rick, Espo?" she asked, twisting her torso to retrieve her coffee cup and taking another sip of the warm liquid. She flashed Castle an appreciative look as she did so. He smiled, happy to know his coffee run had been a wise decision.

"Of course I do," Esposito held out his hand for Castle. "What's up, writer boy?"

Castle shook the man's hand, narrowing his eyes as the tough guy tried to tighten his grip. If his memory served him right, which it usually did, Esposito was ex-military—Special Forces, to be precise. He'd worked with a few in his day. Good guys. He wasn't yet sure which category Detective Javier Esposito fell under, but if Beckett trusted him, then Castle was inclined to consider him one of the good guys.

"Nothing much," he replied, grinning as he firmed up their handshake, not backing down. Esposito pursed his lips tightly when he realized he wasn't going to get the better of him on that.

Beckett watched their exchange with a bemused expression, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. "Rick's joining us on this one," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone that brokered no argument.

"Yeah," Castle added, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. He was still dubious as to the believability of their cover story. "I've hit a bout of writer's block, so Kate offered to let me shadow her for the afternoon."

Esposito raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of them in surprise. "Really?" he frowned, moved around Castle to speak to Beckett, lowering his voice, though still loud enough that Castle could hear. "Beckett, are you sure about that? This isn't a typical case. He could get—"

"It's okay," Beckett declared with a decisive nod, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, Espo. He can be trusted."

"You're the boss," her colleague inclined his head, though Castle was quite certain that the man wasn't entirely convinced. Esposito cast a suspicious glance his way, before returning his attention to Beckett. "So, what's our next move?"

XXX

Beckett had to admit, their cover story for Castle's presence was a little flimsy. They really hadn't had much time to come up with something more plausible, so all she could do was hope that it would hold for as long as possible. Once Ryan arrived with some sandwiches from the deli down the street, they began filling Castle in on everything to do with the case, including some of the information about her shooting and her mother's murder she hadn't yet told him already.

Castle looked thoughtful as he stated at the white board, his keen eyes soaking up all the details. She could see the gears in his mind working. His glanced across the bullpen, towards the captain's office. Gates was standing behind her desk, on the phone.

"Does your captain know all this?"

"No," Esposito answered with a shake of his head.

"And we don't tell her," Beckett spoke up, causing all three men to look at her, each with a different expression. "If she finds out this is a match to my shooting she'll take me off the case."  
Castle nodded.

Ryan looked reluctant. "I don't know, Beckett," he offered, looking solemn. "Maybe you _should_ be off this case."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing questioningly.

"They tried to kill you once, Beckett. You keep going on this way…," he paused, glancing up at Esposito for support, but found none. "What's to keep them from trying again?"

Beckett understood his point, and respected him for voicing it when he knew it was going to be an unpopular opinion. "I get you, Ryan, I do," she said, earnest in her gratitude for his forthright honesty. "But what's to stop them now? No," she shook her head. "I've been waiting a year for this and I'll be damned if I let someone else screw this up."

"This Cazadores shot caller you've got locked up in holding," Castle spoke up after a long pause. "You think he's in on it."

Beckett shrugged. "I don't know."

"But he's definitely hiding something," Esposito added.

Castle inclined his head, scratching his jaw. He narrowed his eyes as he thought. Beckett rubbed her hands together as she watched him mull over everything they'd told him about the case. Finally, he looked up, locking eyes with her. "Let me talk with him," he said, then added, more quietly, "alone."

Beckett opened her mouth to protest, but then he gave her a pointed look, reminding her with just his eyes that he was a highly trained CIA operative and could handle himself. Plus, she knew from experience, having witnessed it first hand, that Castle was skilled at interrogating.

"Fine," she agreed.

"Beckett!?" objected Esposito.

She flashed her colleague a heated glare, hoping to silence him, but it didn't work. But we wasn't going to back down. He grabbed her arm, nudging her away from the white board, out of earshot from Ryan and Castle.

"This is insane," he hissed out. "You can't be serious, Beckett. Don't let your feelings cloud your judgment, or I'll be forced to agree with Ryan."

"Rick can handle himself," she fought back. "You have nothing to worry about."

"He's a _freaking_ writer!" Esposito snarled, no longer bothering to keep his voice quiet. "He has no business going into a cell with a thug like Vincente Delgato."

"If I say he can, then he can," insisted Beckett, narrowing her eyes and flaring her nostrils as she stared Esposito down. She stretched her back, rising to her full height, enhanced by her heels.

Esposito held her gaze for longer than she expected, but he eventually cracked. As she knew he would. She felt a little guilty of taking advantage of his loyalty, but right now, she needed answers. And she knew that at the moment, her CIA boyfriend was the one most capable of getting her those answers.

Turning away from the defeated Esposito, Beckett looked towards Castle. "You've got one hour."

XXX

The break room door opened, and Ryan hustled in with Esposito not far behind. The latter shut the door, pausing momentarily to glance back at Beckett, watching as she sat back down at her desk and took a sip of her coffee.

"Hey, Javier," Ryan said, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Man, this just feels wrong. We need to tell Gates."

Esposito turned away from the closed door and walked closer to Ryan, lowing his voice as he spoke. "Why? So she can send Beckett home? You think that's going to work? You think that's going to stop here?" When Ryan shook his head, he continued. "She's going to investigate this case, Kevin, whether she's on it or not. The least we can do is have her back."

Ryan let out a sigh, but inclined his head in reluctant agreement.

"What about her boyfriend?" he asked, after a long silence. "You really think he's a writer?"

Esposito scowled and glanced back out the break room windows at Beckett. "I don't know, bro," he admitted, looking conflicted. "He's got an awfully firm handshake for someone who supposedly sits around all day and writes. And Beckett wouldn't normally divulge so much about a case to just anybody. Something doesn't sit right about that."

"Look, Javi, all because the guy has a firm handshake doesn't mean he's dishonest and up to no good," Ryan said, letting out little chuckle at his partner's paranoia. He stepped over to the counter and grabbed a coffee mug. "Besides, Beckett trusts him. Are you questioning her judgment?"

Esposito grunted out a response at that, clearly displeased with the implications. "No," he grumbled. "But you have to admit, it's damn peculiar. When was the last time Beckett brought in a boyfriend on a case?"

"Um… a year ago, those cases with Demming," Ryan offered.

"Those don't count. Demming's a cop," Esposito dismissed with a wave of his hand. "This Rick Castle guy isn't. Did she ever bring that doctor boyfriend of hers in on any cases?"

"Nope," Ryan answered as he finished pouring himself a cup of coffee. He placed the pot back in its cradle. "But there was that bomb case. He was there to help you guys out of the freezer."

"Yeah, yeah, but did she ask him to stick around and help solve the case? No," Esposito asserted. He turned away, staring back out at Beckett, watching as she stood up from her seat and stepped over to the white board. "This case is different. She's different because of it. All I'm saying is that I think there's more to this Rick Castle than meets the eye. And whether or not Beckett truly knows that guy or not is irrelevant. Love can blind a person, Kevin. You above all people should know that."

"You saying I'm blind when it comes to Jenny?" he asked, a little offended at the notion.

"A little, yes," Esposito smirked. "Would you seriously have drunk that kale smoothie if she hadn't been the one to make it for you? And be honest with me, Honey Milk."

Ryan wanted to disagree, but he closed his mouth. His partner was right. No one else could have made him drink that disgusting smoothie. He'd done it for Jenny, because she wanted him to drink it and because he loved her. "Fine, I concede your point," he said, leaning back against the countertop and taking a sip from his cup of coffee, grimacing at the awful taste. "So, if Castle isn't a writer, who do you think he is?"

Esposito narrowed his eyes as he thought. "I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say a spook, or something like that," he shrugged. "I'd been around enough of them during my days with the special forces to recognize that arrogance."

"He didn't seem arrogant to me," Ryan said, frowning, trying to recall whether or not Beckett's newest boyfriend seemed the pompous, egotistical type. "He seemed quite friendly, if you ask me. And the way he looked at Beckett. Man, I don't think you could fake that look. Now, if we're talking about arrogant boyfriends, I think Beckett's last one would take the cake."

"You're getting off topic, man," Esposito grumbled.

"Look, Javi," Ryan stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his partner's shoulder. "I agree there's something… unusual about him. But until we have evidence to the contrary, I'm still inclined to give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Fine," Esposito conceded. "Just… keep an eye out."

Ryan nodded, reaching for the door. "I will."

XXX

The metal doors rattled closed behind him, and Castle stared across the cell at the muscly thug. He'd dealt with his kind before. All talk. You gave them a real threat, and they caved… fast. Vincente Delgato glanced up, glaring at him from behind dark eyes and a bull of face. The man's countenance was all bravado, smug and arrogant. He thought the police couldn't touch him. That no one could. But he was wrong. Deadly wrong.

"Who are you?" the man grunted out.

"Just a friend."

Vincente scoffed, giving him a once over. "Not my friend, that's for sure."

Castle smiled, putting on an indifferent expression. "True," he said, stepping closer. "But they've got enough on the drugs and weapons charges to put you away for at least five years. Five years of your life," he said that last bit slowly, almost tauntingly, hoping to get a rise out of him. But the man didn't budge, simply glared back at him with contempt in his eyes. Castle smirked, and casually walked across the cell, sitting down on the bench beside the thug.

Vincente remained still, not at all intimidated.

"What's that worth?" Castle asked in a soft voice, low and threatening. "Look, man, I know you didn't kill Orlando. But he called you and talked to you for two minutes. And you were in that alley." He paused, turning his head to stare directly at him. "Why? That's all they want to know."

Vincente remained quiet and stoic, not moving, refusing to talk.

Castle smirked, leaning back against the brick walls. "Look, I get it. You're not going to rat out anybody. I get that. Hell, I might even respect that. But it doesn't mean I'll accept that. Or that I give a shit about you." He placed a firm hand on the man's shoulder, a not so subtle attempt at intimidation. He was being obvious on purpose, wanting the man to know he was threatening him.

He finally got a response. Vincente looked at him with a hard expression. "You can stop with your threats," he said. "You're as foolish as that lady cop. You can't touch me. You guys have regulations against that sort of thing."

Castle tightened his grip on the man's shoulder, and he watched as the man's face contorted in a grimace, his eyes unable to hide the flash of surprise… and fear. "Oh, that's where you're mistaken, my friend," he hissed out in a low and deadly voice, one he'd used quite often when he'd had these kinds of 'talks' with the various lowlifes he encountered in his line of work. He'd broken them. And he'd break Vincente Delgato. "I'm not with the police."

XXX

Beckett took one last sip of her coffee, before tossing the empty cup into the trashcan alongside her desk. She licked her lips, and sighed, forever grateful to Castle for bringing her a cup of coffee that was made outside of the precinct. The coffee in the break room was atrocious. It tasted like a monkey peed in battery acid. She grimaced at the thought alone, and was just beginning to contemplate making a quick run down to a coffee street down the street when the elevator doors opened on a ding and her boyfriend stepped. From his serious expression, she deduced he'd broken Vincente Delgato and got the thug to talk.

"Castle…," she gasped out when he approached her desk. "You didn't—?" her voice trailed off, unable to complete that question out loud.

"Torture him?" Castle finished for her with a feigned hurt look, placing a hand over his heart. "Really… you wound me, Detective. You think that little of me."

"Castle," she ground out, crossing her arms and giving him one of her glares. "Enough with the dramatics. Just answer the question."

He smirked. "The answer is no," he said, much to her relief. She didn't know why she'd been worried—her morals and ethics, maybe—but it eased her guilt at breaking protocol and letting Castle speak with Vincente alone in holding. "There was no need," he continued. "We just had a good talk. And I just made things really clear to him. That's all. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about."

She grumbled under her breath, but nodded her head. At least nothing happened that would come back to bite her in the ass. Castle stepped into her personal space, and her breath hitched up. He moved a hand up to brush back some loose strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes, tucking them behind her ear in a shockingly intimate public display of affection. His fingertips skimmed along her cheek as he dropped his hand and sought out hers. She closed her eyes, and exhaled, letting the tension free as their hands intertwined. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, before pulling back when Esposito, followed closely by Ryan, stepped over to join them from where they'd been waiting at their desks.

"You get anything, Writer Boy?" Esposito asked with a teasing smirk and narrowed eyes. Beckett could tell he wasn't completely convinced with their cover story. She just hoped he wouldn't push. Thankfully, at least at the moment, he was putting the case first.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Castle grinned triumphantly, hamming it up for their cover story, much to her annoyance. But she'd take that as long as she got some answers. "Our friend down in holding admitted to speaking with your victim, Orlando Costas, last week on the phone. He said Orlando was looking for money. Vincente offered him a job, but Orlando declined, knowing if he returned to the Cazadores there'd be no leaving this time around. All he wanted was a loan and was hoping Vincente could help him out with that."

"Did he give it to him?" Beckett asked.

"No," Castle shook his head. "Vincente claims Orlando said he had something big coming up and that he was good for it, that if things went the way Orlando was hoping, he'd be able to pay him back in full, and then some."

Esposito raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Did he say what?"

"No, he didn't," Castle frowned. "But, Vincente did cough up to getting another phone call the day of the murder. Orlando was freaking out, desperate, saying it had all gone wrong, talking about how _they_ wanted to kill him."

"Who are _they_?" Beckett asked, her heart rate picking up with the information they were getting.

"According to Vincente, Orlando didn't say," Castle shrugged. "But he could tell he was scared."

"Why did he call Vincente?" Esposito questioned.

"Protection," Castle said. "Orlando offered to rejoined the Cazadores for protection. So Vincente agreed to a meet up, but by the time he got there Orlando was already dead."

"Did Vincente see anything?"

Castle nodded. "White guy, six foot. That's all he said."

Beckett exchanged a look with Esposito. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

He nodded. "Sounds like this could be someone similar to Lockwood."

"Lockwood?" Castle questioned with a frown.

"I'll explain later," Beckett promised with a quick smile and then walked over to the white board, uncapping the marker and adding the new information.

"If Orlando was having money troubles that required him to seek out an old gang contact for a loan, then there should be some evidence of that," Ryan said. "I'll recheck his financials."

Beckett watched as he dashed back over to his desk.

"They must have been tapping Orlando's phone. That's the only way they got there first," she finished adding the latest details Castle had coaxed out of Vincente Delgato and spun around, brow furrowed. "But how did they know to target Orlando for the job?" She looked to Castle and Esposito. She could tell her boyfriend was thinking, but he wasn't used to investigating like she was. He was a field operative. He had handlers and other people that did the analysis side for him. But she didn't allow that to discount his reasoning skills.

"Because he was desperate for money," Esposito said.

"Possible," Beckett nodded. "But how did they know that? How did they know his background?"

"You said Orlando was in the military, right?" Castle asked, his eyebrows knitting together in thought.

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Then maybe that's how they knew him," Castle supplied. "Outside contractors usually look for ex-military. Maybe he was hired by someone he knew."

Beckett bobbed her head. "That's a place to start, yes."

"Yeah, Kate, but whoever's gotten close to that secret is dead," Castle said, concern leaking its away into his features. "I think it's clear that we're in over our heads here."

Her head jerked sharply in Castle's direction, and she stared at him in shock. She couldn't believe he just said that. Beckett had to stop herself from retorting back with a reminder that he was a CIA agent and that he'd been in far hairier situations than this, some of which she'd been involved with and witnessed first hand—escaping from the torturous clutches of a certain South African mercenary came to mind. Instead, she opted for narrowing her eyes and clenching her jaw, growling inwardly with frustration. She knew that as her boyfriend he was worried for her, but she needed him to be Special Agent Rick Castle right now and not her boyfriend.

Esposito let out a light laugh, and glanced towards Castle with a dismissive look. "Speak for yourself, Writer Boy."

Thankfully, before Castle could issue out a reply to that, Ryan approached with a handful of papers. "Orlando's full financials just came in," he explained. "He was underwater and overdrawn, until last week when a wire transfer for ten grand hit his account."

"Let me guess," Beckett smirked ruefully. "Untraceable?"

Ryan nodded.

"So it's a dead end?" Castle asked, and Beckett turned her head back to glare at him, wondering what was up with him. It was like he was hoping they'd run out of leads. He could simply be playing the part of a writer, or he could be serious. At the moment, Beckett couldn't tell which one it was. But before she could call him out on that, Ryan spoke up.

"The deposits are, but the debit withdrawals are not," he said, handing the printouts to Beckett. She took them, and gave them a quick glance.

"Right when the money came in Marisol started using it to pay bills," Esposito put in.

Beckett looked up from the papers. "Wait, if Marisol knew about the money—"

"Then she knew Orlando was up to something," Esposito finished, and the two shared a knowing look.

"She lied to us," Beckett ground out angrily. She hated it when witnesses lied, especially when they were loved ones of the victim. How was she supposed to do a proper investigation when she constantly had people covering up for one another?

Ryan inclined his head. "Not only that, but according to the bank records, she cleaned out the entire account an hour ago."

Beckett scowled, handing the papers back to Ryan. She sidestepped around Esposito and Castle, and reached inside her desk to retrieve her gun. "She's on the run."

She quickly strapped her gun into place, and grabbed her coat. Within seconds she was off for the elevator, with Ryan and Esposito on her tail. But as the doors shut, she couldn't help but notice that Castle had remained behind, still sitting on the edge of her desk. He looked up at her, and offered her a reassuring smile. She bit her lower lip and nodded in understanding. To maintain their cover story he couldn't follow her out into the field. It would raise too many questions. Though she felt confident that if the situation were dire, and not just them going out to pick up a fleeing witness, Castle would be with her, by her side, ready for a fight.

Her last sight of Castle before the elevator doors rattled shut was of him turning away and reaching inside his jacket pocket to retrieve that archaic looking phone he valued so highly.

She wondered who he was calling.


	8. Chapter 7

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 7**

They finally had a solid lead.

After putting some pressure on Marisol Cartagena, Beckett finally had the information she required to further her investigation.

Orlando Costas had been hired by someone he'd known from his time overseas with the military. "Someone dangerous," Marisol had said. According to his girlfriend, it was only supposed to be a one-time thing. A lot of money for one job. And they were desperate for money. Marisol knew enough to tell them that Orlando had been asked to steal all the files from a dead cop's house—Montgomery's. But the biggest piece of information was how this dangerous someone contacted Orlando Costas.

"He left notes for Orlando in a mailbox with a time and a place," Marisol said, near sobbing. "They were coded so I wouldn't know where. But I was in the car once. I saw where they met."

"Where?" Beckett had pressed, leaning forward.

"At a church, over on State Street," had been Marisol's reply.

Beckett stepped out of the interrogation room with a small triumphant smile on her face. She had a lead. It felt good. Really good. It had been nearly a year since she'd had any traction on this case… _her_ case. Technically they were pursuing Orlando's murderer, but at the same time, they were getting a step closer to finding out who had shot her and who'd had her mother killed.

"Beckett!" Esposito shouted, slamming through the door behind her. "What the hell was that!?"

She halted in her tracks and spun around, glaring hard at her colleague. "I call it getting the job done," she snapped back.

"Really!?" Esposito didn't back down. "That's what you call it? I call it witness intimidation."

Beckett rolled her eyes and scoffed, "You've never had a problem with that before." She narrowed her eyes, going toe to toe with him. "You getting soft on me, Esposito?"

He scowled, taking offense, like she knew he would. But to his credit, Esposito didn't budge. "You threatened to have her kid taken away from her, Beckett," he hissed out. "If this were any other case…" his voice trailed off when Ryan and Castle emerged from the observation room, both warily eyeing the pair of them.

"What?" Beckett challenged, heedless of the audience now present. She stared at her colleague, her gaze hard and unyielding. "If this were any other case…? Finish that sentence!"

Esposito let out a sigh, and shook his head, raising his hands in surrender, backing down. Beckett clenched her jaw tightly, feeling a slight pang of guilt for questioning his loyalty. She had always been able to trust him to have her back, and there was no reason for her to start doubting him now. She flicked her eyes over towards Ryan and Castle, waiting for one of them to make a comment. Both remained silent, however she couldn't help but notice the look in her boyfriend's eyes. He was staring at her like she was a completely different person. And, when it came to this case, maybe she was.

The thought of his opinion of her changing because of how she'd treated Marisol in the interrogation room made her heart squeeze with a feeling she couldn't quite describe. It was some odd mixture of remorse, self-reproach, and some other emotion.

Averting her eyes, Beckett turned her focus back to Esposito. "You and Ryan head down to that church and see what you can find out."

"And Marisol?" he asked.

"We'll release her when you guys get back."

He grunted out a reply and nodded his head. Ryan said goodbye to Castle, and cast a concerned look in her direction before rushing to catch up with his partner, leaving Beckett alone with her boyfriend.

"That was intense," he spoke at length, breaking the awkward silence that had descended on them. "Is it always like that?"

"Uh?" she blinked, flicking her eyes back up to him as she knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. "Is what always like that?"

He pursed his lips, and gestured towards the interview room. "Are you always like that during interrogations?"

She hesitated in her answer, biting her lower lip and crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive manner. "No," she said at length, her nose wrinkling as she thought. "Not always."

"I've never really seen you in cop mode before," he stated, almost absently. "You know, it's kind of hot."

She snorted in reply, and then frowned. "Do you think I went too far?"

Castle contemplated her question for a beat, before letting out a long sigh, carding his fingers through his hair. "Perhaps," he said with a shrug. "But, hey, who am I to judge? This is your turf, not mine. And I've done far worse to get people to talk. Far worse. So I'm hardly in the right to judge you for your interrogation techniques."

Beckett stared at him, for a moment wondering just what he meant by that. Torture, she figured, had to be the only answer. She wasn't really surprise. Not really. The CIA was infamous for their 'aggressive' interrogations. But she didn't like thinking about her Castle, this ruggedly handsome man she loved, overseeing such things. Sighing, she dropped her head and averted her gaze, letting such thoughts fade away from her mind and refocused on her behavior inside the interrogation room. She couldn't help but feel a small pang of guilt for how she'd treated Marisol. The woman was a scared single mother, doing what she had to do to protect her child. What would she have done in Marisol's place? _Probably the same_ , her mind supplied.

"Sometimes," Castle spoke softly in a reassuring tone, stepping closer into her personal space. "You've just gotta do what you gotta do."

Letting out a disbelieving scoff, Beckett held up her hands to warn him off, and stalked away from him. She knew he was right. She'd had to make tough choices before, but this was different. This time she'd allowed her personal investment in the case to get in the way. She didn't feel deserving of Castle's reassuring touch. Not now. The combination of what he'd said with Esposito's remarks had Beckett feeling regretful of her treatment of Orlando Costas's girlfriend. She'd let her emotions get the better of her, and for that she was both embarrassed and ashamed.

She slumped down into one of the plastic chairs against the wall in the side hallway. Hanging her head, she folded her hands up in her lap. Castle followed, as she knew he would, and gently sat down next to her. With cautious movements, as if he were approaching a scared animal, Castle shifted in his seat and slowly placed his large hand over hers. His other hand rubbed soothing patterns up and down her stiff back. She closed her eyes and swallowed, taking comfort from his touch.

"The stakes are higher for you," he spoke in a quiet, understanding tone. "But you need to calm down. Just breathe. With a cool head, you'll be much better equipped to get this guy."

He was right. She knew he was. She couldn't allow her emotions to seize control and derail her restraint and command. If there was one thing Beckett prided herself on in her work as a detective, it was her ability to maintain control over her mind and body. She needed to remain sharp and alert, so she could focus and see the whole picture, capturing all the little details that—if she allowed herself to get distracted by these emotions—she might miss. So Beckett did as he told her, and after a couple of minutes of deep breathing she felt the tension in her neck, back, and shoulders uncoil and fade away.

"There," Castle hummed softly, continuing to caress her back, his touch soft and warm… comforting. "Now, isn't that better?"

"Much, yes," she answered, offering her a grateful smile. "Thank you."

He smiled at her, and lifted his hand up from hers—still clasped together in her lap—and brushed back some loose strands of hair that had fallen across her face. "It's the least I can do," he murmured, his eyes finding hers, "considering all you did for me last year."

She chuckled softly, flicking her tongue out between her teeth as she glanced up at him. "Yeah, you were a major inconvenience," she said teasingly, playing along. "Just waltzed right into my life and turned it upside down."

He laughed lightly, moving his hand down the side of her face to cup her jaw in his palm, the pad of his thumb caressing her cheek. "Oh, that was really inconsiderate of me," he said with an exaggerated pout, sticking her lower lip out as if he was a little boy. "I hoped I made it up to you."

Beckett's eyes flicked between his lips and his sparkling blue eyes. "Yeah, you did," she confirmed with a soft smile as she remembered the first time they made love. "In the best way possible."

Castle reciprocated her smile with one of his own, but then his expression turned thoughtful. He swallowed and averted his gaze for a moment. "Do you regret any of it?" he asked, and from his tone, Beckett knew he was serious.

"No," she shook her head. "I have no regrets."

His lips quirked up. He caressed the side of her face, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. "I know this might not be the most appropriate time or place, but… may I kiss you, Kate?"

Her heart rate skipped a beat, and she bit her lower lip, pondering her worthiness of such affections at the moment. But then she recalled the words she'd just spoken— _no regrets_ —and the decision was made. Besides, she could really use the emotional support and comfort a kiss from the man she love would provide. She glanced around to double check that they were, in fact, alone. When she saw no one, she turned back to him and nodded her consent.

Castle smiled at her, moving his hand up, burying his fingers in her hair. "You're not alone, Kate," he said. "We'll get through this. As we've proven before, together we're a force to be reckoned with."

"That we are," she agreed with a grin.

And then he kissed her.

XXX

Esposito shot a look in his partner's direction when he shuddered dramatically as they stepped across the threshold and stepped inside the church interior.

"Yo, what's up with you, bro?"

"Nothing," Ryan assured him, rolling his shoulders. "Just… this place kind of gives me the creeps. I'm having flashbacks to my days at the catholic school my folks sent me to as a kids."

"Scary nuns?" Esposito asked with an amused grin.

Ryan gulped, and nodded. "Scary nuns," he confirmed.

Esposito shook his head, giving his partner a tired look. "Fine, you stay here, I'll see if I can find the Padre." He hurried off, leaving an anxious Kevin Ryan nervously glancing around, as if he was afraid a stern nun would pop out at any second to swat at his hands with a ruler.

He found an attendant, who informed him that Father Alvarez was in his office, reviewing his notes for the evening mass. The young man offered to fetch him. Esposito inclined his head and motioned back to his partner to come over. He stifled a groan and eye roll over his partner's nervous demeanor. But then again, maybe the Irish Catholics were different than their Latino brethren. By the time Ryan had joined him, a white haired man with the typical collar of a priest emerged from the backroom.

"Good afternoon, Detectives," he greeted. "I'm Father Enrique Alvarez. Josepe tells me you had some questions?"

"Yes, Father," Esposito bowed his head respectfully, shifting his jacket and holding up his badge. "Detective Javier Esposito, and this is my partner, Detective Kevin Ryan. We're investigating a homicide, and we have reason to believe the victim met with someone here sometimes this week." He took a photo of Orlando Costas out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the priest. "His name is Orlando Costas."

"And what day was this?" Father Alvarez asked, glancing down at the photograph and narrowing his eyes.

"Wednesday," he answered.

"Yeah," Ryan nodded. "Around 3PM."

Father Alvarez stared back down at the photo. But after a long moment, he shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, genuinely disappointed. He started walking down the center aisle, Ryan and Esposito on either side of him. "I wish I could help. But we're open to the public and we get a lot of unfamiliar faces every day. We usually just leave them to their prayers."

Esposito glanced up, noting the yet unrepaired box attached to the wall. "If your donation box is any indication it looks like being open to the public comes with a price," he commented.

"Yes well, it's not the best neighborhood," Father Alvarez sighed. "We catch gang kids and the homeless all the time trying to take advantage of more than just our outreach programs."

Esposito nodded in understanding, gazing back at the box, his brow furrowing as he thought over a notion that just popped into his head. "How do you catch them?"

Father Alvarez gestured behind them towards one of the columns, and Esposito spied what was clearly a security camera up onto of the ornate capital of the column several rows back. He exchanged a look with Ryan.

"Yeah," Ryan said, shifting his feet. "We'd like to have your security tapes, if that's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, Detective," Father Alvarez said, handing the photo of Orlando Costas back to Esposito. "Anything to help bring some solace to this young man's grieving family."

XXX

"Stop your whining," the Knave ground out, glowering at the arms dealer. "You can indulge in your deviant appetites later. Right now we have a job to do."

Johann Kriedt let out a groan of defeat, and slumped down in the passenger seat as he stared out the window, watching as his colleague turned the white van off the main road and down a dark, narrow street, lit only by a flickering streetlight. The sun had just set, and twilight was upon them. They were somewhere along the docks in Brooklyn, driving around the warehouses. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and checked to see if their contact had returned his earlier text.

"The supplier?" the Knave inquired, his voice low and annoyed, clearly not pleased with the absence of any other vehicles at the agreed upon meeting place.

"He'll be here. He says he got stuck in traffic," Kriedt said.

"These explosive better be worth the price I'm paying," the Knave said.

"I've dealt with this supplier many times," he assured him. "The product's quality is guaranteed."

Kriedt shifted in his seat, once again feeling wary of dealing with the Knave. Though highly efficient and skilled, the assassin's moods could some times be unpredictable. And his dedication to the job was obsessive, almost fanatical. Kriedt would much prefer to be tied up in some pleasure dungeon with the spiked heels of Mistress Crimson pressing into his backside than sitting uncomfortably next to one of the most ruthless and sadistic killers he'd ever met. It was almost sickening to see just how much pleasure the man received from taking lives.

Unfortunately, Kriedt's client had specifically asked him to work one-on-one with the Knave. And this particular client was not someone he could say no to, especially when he arranged for his escape from the clutches of the United States government.

The man was a credit to his profession, his talents and skills unparalleled, as he'd witnessed first hand in Istanbul. It had been quite satisfying watching the Knave stop that CIA agent in his tracks. Rick Castle had looked like he'd seen a ghost, which Kriedt supposed was somewhat true when it came to the Knave. The man _was_ a ghost. Even with his extensive feelers in numerous intelligence agencies throughout the globe, Kriedt had never found any files on the Knave.

His identity remained a secret.

Pocketing his cellphone, Kriedt sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Look, I don't know why you need me for this. There's no need for introductions. Payment has already been made. It's just a simple pick up."

The Knave let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, that's where you are wrong, my friend," he said, a wicked grin on his face. "You're my insurance policy in case anything goes south." He turned away, glancing at the driver's side view mirror as the headlights of another vehicle approached.

Kriedt watched with wide terrified eyes as the Knave took his Beretta, a short-tubed silencer attached to it, out from its concealment underneath his jacket and doubled checked the magazine, before slamming the cartridge back into place. He swallowed heavily, trying to control the pounding of his heart as the killer deftly returned the weapon back in its hiding place.

The Knave caught his gaze and flashed him a wink, a devious glint in his eyes. "No loose ends, remember?"

XXX

After Ryan and Esposito returned from the church, all four of them camped out in the tech room to review the security footage. Esposito was on her right, leaning against the doorjamb as he silently sipped from his cup of coffee. Beckett suppressed a smirk when he tried to hide the grimace resulting from the awful taste. She had to agree, it was terrible coffee, but at least it had caffeine. She, on the other hand, had fortunately acquired another large skim latte with two pumps of sugar-free vanilla. Castle, being the amazing and supportive boyfriend that he was, had been kind enough to run out and get her one as she'd passed the time while the boys were gone by taking another look at Orlando Costas's financials.

"This set up is pretty cool," Castle noted, laying it on pretty thick with his persona of a writer shadowing his girlfriend at work. "You guys ever use it to watch the Knicks play?"

Esposito glanced at Castle with a frown, and Beckett couldn't help but notice his suspicious expression. She gently nudged her boyfriend in the ribs with her elbow and shot him a warning look. Castle locked eyes with her and shrugged, as if saying 'Told you it was a stupid cover story'.

Meanwhile, Kevin Ryan, being the homicide squad's king of all things media, was seated at the controls. Beckett watched as he finished uploading the security footage from the church and queued up the video feed for Wednesday afternoon. Beckett shifted her weight on her feet and positioned herself almost directly behind Ryan, crossing her arm over her chest, and stared intently at the monitor as it flickered to life.

The footage was black and white, and of subpar quality—nothing like the video feed from the CCTV camera around the city. But it was enough. The camera was centered on the battered collection box, with a couple rows of pews also in view. Beckett pursed her lips and watched as the footage jumped as Ryan fast-forwarded.

"Here it is," Ryan said, scrolling through the tape. "3 PM, Wednesday."

He slowed the tape down and they watched as Orlando Costas stepped into view. The young man hesitated for a moment, looking around the church, before sitting down in one of the pews. After a moment, a shadow crossed over Orlando's face and another man sat down beside him, but only his right shoulder was visible, the rest of him was off-screen.

"That's him!" Esposito declared, his excitement a little premature.

Beckett knitted her eyebrows together in frustration as she glared at the screen, half tempted to tilt her head to the side to see if she could get a better angle, no matter how irrational the idea was. "Damn it," she hissed out in a quiet breath, narrowing her eyes as she glared at the grainy image on the screen.

The two men talked for a while. Eventually Orlando got up and left, and Beckett almost held her breath, the anticipation almost killing her. "C'mon, c'mon," she mumbled out, hoping and praying that their mystery man would step into frame. He stood up, and what little of him that had been visible onscreen disappeared. Beckett clenched her jaw, stifling a groan at another disappointment.

But then, the man stepped into frame, and walked out down the aisle between the pews, taking the same path as Orlando Costas.

"Yes!" Beckett exclaimed, too caught up in her own excitement to register the surprised gasp coming from her boyfriend. "Rewind. Freeze it. There!"

Ryan did as instructed, and Beckett leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as she glared at the image of the man who shot her last May while she gave the eulogy at her deceased captain's funeral.

"So that's what you look like," she spoke aloud, barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to run this through the army CID," Esposito announced. "If they met in the military, someone in Orlando's old unit might be able to ID him."

"No!" Beckett asserted with a sharp voice, startling her colleagues. They glanced at her with stunned expressions. "No," she repeated. "We don't know who's involved and we don't know how high this goes. The minute we put this photo out there, people are going to know. He's going to disappear. And we will never see him again." She paused, reconsidering her decision for a beat before the fire of justice for her mother—and herself—blazed away any lingering doubts. "We're going to have to do this one on our own."

Ryan sighed, looking glum. "Beckett, that's impossible. All we have is a face. No name. No ID. No way to find this guy."

She shook her head, eyes flashing with stubborn persistence. "Then we'll find a way to find him," she declared, turning back to glare at the face of the man who'd put a bullet in her chest. "I'm not going to lose this lead."

With a nod, knowing the boys would obey her commands, Beckett ducked out of the tech room. She stalked over to her desk and grabbed her empty coffee mug. Her heels clicked hard against the wooden floorboards of the homicide floor as she marched out of the bullpen and towards the break room. She let out a growl of annoyance when she found the coffee pot empty. Shaking her head, she carded her fingers through her hair and turned away, only to halt in her steps when she noticed the broad frame of her CIA boyfriend blocking her path.

"Castle?" she questioned, brow furrowing. Since she was somewhat irritated having her path out the door obstructed, it took her a moment longer than it normally would to notice the thunderstruck expression on her boyfriend's face. Swallowing, she frowned and looked up at him with concern. "Rick, what is it?"

"I know him," he said in an almost haunted, hollow voice, his eyes glazing over with what must be traumatic memories.

"Know who?"

"The guy on the video," Castle elaborated, blinking his eyes and snapping out of his trance. He clenched his jaw and his face hardened with barely constrained rage. "The man who killed Orlando Costas, the man who shot you—" his eyes flickered down to her chest, before averting his gaze, a strange look passing over his face, "—he's the same man… the same man who tried to kill me in Istanbul two years ago. Remember? I told you about that. That's where I got that nasty scar on my left shoulder. I thought he was dead. I thought… but then I saw him again, just a few weeks ago… in… in Istanbul."

"Castle," Beckett stepped forward, raising her voice a little to break him out of his ramblings. He shook his head and heaved in a deep breath, snapping his eyes back up to hers.

"Kate?"  
"Who is he?" she asked slowly, trying not to let the steel edge in her voice control her tone. She was not mad at Castle, and she didn't want him to think that she was. She was just trying to help him get to the information she desperately needed.

"Kilmer," Castle said. "His name is Ray Kilmer. He was my partner… before he went crazy and tried to kill me."


	9. Chapter 8

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 8**

Castle heaved in a deep breath, flicking his eyes up to glance across the room at Detective Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito. After he had informed his girlfriend about his past connection with Orlando Costas's killer and, it would also appear, the man who had shot her, Kate had insisted they drop their farce of a cover story and tell her colleagues as much of the truth as they could. He'd been hesitant, not entirely certain it was a good idea to bring more people into the know, but under the circumstances he was forced to agree with her decision. He had wanted to tell her more ahead of talking with the others, but before he could explain further, Kate had left to retrieve her coworkers, insisting that it would be easier if they only had to explain things once.

The two detectives sat patiently around the small table in the break room, slowly drinking coffee as they waited for an explanation to their sudden summons. Kate entered the break room, closing the door after her, in a cautious hope to ensure some measure of privacy. She turned, and locked eyes with him. Castle still had his doubts, but when he looked at his girlfriend, seeing the resolve on her beautiful features, he knew it was the right decision.

"Yo, Beckett, what's this about?" Esposito was the first to speak, his brow furrowing with irritation. "Shouldn't we be trying to identify the bastard that shot you instead of sitting around drinking coffee?"

"We know who he is," Kate stated in a relatively calm voice, firm and professional. Castle glanced at her, impressed with her composure. This man hadn't just killed Orlando Costas, after orchestrating the theft of files from her former captain's house, but had also been the man who shot her in the chest.

"Then who is he?" Esposito demanded.

Kate bit her lower lip and looked towards Castle.

He swallowed, and straightened his back, before turning toward her colleagues. "I don't know what alias he's going by now, but his name is Raymond Kilmer. He's a former US covert operative who went rogue two years ago."

"And how do you know his?" Ryan asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Because he tried to kill me," Castle said.

Both men's jaws dropped.

"No way," Ryan said shaking his head in disbelief. "That's… shit… I mean… the same guy tried to kill both of you… not at the same time, of course… but still." He let out a long whistle. "That's some coincidence."

"Beckett?" Esposito shifted in his seat, jerking his head towards her, his eyes asking for confirmation.

"It's true," she said with a nod, wringing her hands together as she stalked back over to Castle's side. She licked her lips anxiously and glanced briefly up at him before redirecting her gaze towards her expectant colleagues. "Guys, we have to tell you something… something we'd appreciate if you kept under wraps."

Esposito and Ryan exchanged a glance, and nodded in agreement. Castle hid his surprise, utilizing facial expression training he'd had back at the farm before his first field operation for the Agency. He didn't know these men well, but it was obvious from the start that both were loyal to Kate.

"Sure, Beckett."

"What is it?"

"Rick's not a writer. Well, actually he is. Um… what I mean… er... well, he does write novels, but they're not published, or anything. And he doesn't do…," her rambling voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat and shook her head before continuing. "What I mean to say, he does write, but he doesn't do it for a living. That's not his actual job. So that's not why he's here."

Castle nodded his head in confirmation. "That's right," he said. "Though, if I was struggling with writer's block, I have no doubt I would still have wanted to shadow Kate around on her cases."

"Oh please," Kate mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes at that. However, the slight upwards quirk of her lips belied any annoyance she might have had at his comment.

Ryan's eyebrows shot up, a thunderstruck expression working its way across his face as he glanced over at Castle, for the first time, truly taking in his appearance and demeanor. Meanwhile, on the other hand, it was not too difficult to notice that Esposito did not seem as surprised as his partner.

"Yeah, I figured as much," the man asserted, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair in a smug manner. "So, what is he then?"

"Same as us," Kate declared, gesturing between them, still trying to keep his true profession secret. "He's one of the good guys, Espo." Her heart was in the right place, but even Castle knew that her coworker wouldn't be mollified with just that.

Esposito scoffed. "Come on, Beckett, you gotta give us more than that." The man turned his challenging gaze on Castle. "What are you? FBI? Homeland?" He paused, and arched up an eyebrow. "CIA?"

"CIA," Castle confirmed with a slight bob of his head, locking eyes with the man.

"And is 'Castle' an alias?" Esposito questioned, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

He shook his head. "Nope. My legal name is Richard Castle."

"Wow," Ryan gasped, clearly astonished. He looked towards Castle with a bit of wonder and awe in his eyes.

"I knew it," Esposito grinned, smacking his still dazed partner in the arm. "Didn't I tell you he was a spook?"

Ryan winced, and rubbed his sore arm, casting an annoyed look in his friend's direction. His eyebrows knitted together as he turned back to Castle and Beckett. "Like… um, what kind of stuff do you do?" he asked, swallowing nervously.

Castle smirked, flicking a bemused glance in Kate's direction, seeing her roll her eyes, before looking back at her colleagues. "Covert operations."

"Shit," Ryan hissed out, putting a hand on the table to keep himself steady. "Like… Jason Bourne kind of stuff?"

"Um… sort of, yeah," Castle answered with a shrug. It was the best he could do without going into too much detail. He bit in the inside of his cheek, just imagining the conversation he'd eventually have to have with Director York. His boss wouldn't be too happy with his so cavalierly telling people he was a secret agent. He again wondered if these too men could be trusted to keep this a secret. Glancing at Kate, and seeing how she was watching her friends' reaction with a bemused expression on her face, he had a feeling he'd just have to trust her on this. Castle trusted Kate. So if she trusted them, then he'd trust them.

Ryan nodded absently, averting his gaze as he simply stared off into space, absorbing the information. Esposito wasn't as affected by the news. Considering the man's Special Forces history, Castle wasn't surprised.

"So…," the Hispanic man drawled out, cutting his gaze to Kate with a pointed look. "When did you two meet?"

"More like _how_?" Ryan interjected with an overwhelmed expression on his face.

Castle chuckled, enjoying himself. Kate, however, still appeared a little wary. "Um… do you remember about seven months ago, just after a returned from that conference in D.C.?" Kate hedged, stepping closer to the table her colleagues were sitting at.

"You mean the one where the FBI put out an APB on you and raided your apartment?" Esposito asked with a smirk.

She grimaced at the reminder, but nodded in confirmation. "Yep. That… um… that's when I met Rick," she said. "I… well, let's just say I sort of got caught up in the operation he was running." She glanced to Castle with a questioning gaze, silently asking how much she should divulge. He pursed his lips, and gave a slight nod of consent. With his encouragement, Kate turned back to her partners. "Castle had just found out there was a mole within the CIA. She had placed a target on him, making him look like a rogue agent."

"Luckily for me, I bumped into Kate," Castle stepped in, flashing her a wink as he slipped an arm around her waist. She fell into his side with ease, unconcerned with the obvious affection on display in front of her colleagues. "If it wasn't for her assistance, I wouldn't have been able to clear my name and unmask the true traitor."

Ryan looked impressed. "Wow, Beckett, that's… amazing," he stuttered out.

Esposito, however, still appeared slightly disgruntled. "And here I thought you hated working with the Feds," he grumbled, giving Kate a pointed look. "Do you trust him?"

Kate looked at Castle with warm eyes and shrugged. "Yes, Javi, I do," she stated, quite confidently. "Castle's the exception to the rule." And then, surprising probably not only himself, but her colleagues as well, Kate planted a quick kiss on his lips. Castle couldn't hold back the sigh of contentment, even if he wanted to. He was helpless when it came to Kate Beckett. She just had a way of getting past all his defenses.

Esposito narrowed his eyes as he stared at Castle for a long moment, unaffected by the public display of affection between the pair. A tense silence filled the room, and Castle could feel the knot of muscles in Kate's lower back tense up with worry. He moved his hand up from her waist and began rubbing soothing patterns along her back. He glanced sideways at her, noticing that she had begun gnawing on her lower lip, clearly concerned over her colleague's reaction. He had no idea Detective Esposito's opinion mattered so much to her. After what seemed like twenty minutes, the Hispanic man's frown finally turned upside down, replaced by a genuine smile.

"Alright," he declared with a decisive nod, slamming the table's surface with his hands before standing up. Ryan jerked at the sudden sound, and blinked, coming out of his ponderings. Esposito stepped around the table and walked up to Castle, extending his hand. "If Beckett trusts you, then that's good enough for me."

Castle took the man's hand, and this time when they shook, there was no challenge or silent contest between them. Ryan was right next. Castle liked the younger man; he was pleasant and friendly.

"Thanks for trusting us with the truth," Ryan said, sincere in his gratitude and understanding.

"Yeah, thanks," Esposito added, glancing over at Kate with a knowing look as he spoke. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

"I'm sorry, Espo," she said, averting her eyes briefly. "I really wanted to tell you guys, we just thought it might be better not to—"

He waved off her apology. "No need to explain, Beckett," he said. "I understand the need for secrecy. But next time," he looked back at Castle before returning his gaze to Kate, "you two should come up with a better cover story."

"Noted," Castle said with an amused grin, truly happy that it appeared they had her colleagues' blessing, not that it changed anything. They certainly didn't need anyone approval to see one another.

Kate nodded, and chuckled slightly. "I'm actually surprised Lanie hadn't told you already. She's known for months."

"What? How?"

"Long story short, I needed someone to patch me up," Castle supplied, saving Kate from having to explain.

"I wanted to take him to a hospital, but he refused," Kate said with a shrug, her lips tugging upwards as she glanced his way, no doubt remembering his vehement 'no hospitals' declaration.

"Needless to say, since I was on the run from my own agency at the time, I needed to lay low," Castle said.

"Right, right," Ryan bobbed his head, still looking somewhat lost and confused. Yeah, he was definitely getting a little overwhelmed with all the new information. Castle offered the man a small smile, and patted his shoulder reassuringly, knowing that he'd eventually be able to process it all.

"You really sure about this guy, Beckett?" Esposito asked again, jerking his chin in Castle's direction.

She bit her lower lip and nodded, almost bashfully. "Yeah, Espo, I'm sure," she asserted, reaching up and running her hand along Castle's shoulder and arm in an affectionate and tender manner. Castle could tell from her colleague's expression that the gesture spoke volumes about Kate's certainty in him.

"So," Esposito cleared his throat after a somewhat awkward silence had settled on the four of them. "What can you tell us about this Raymond Kilmer?"

Castle nodded, and gestured back to the table. They all walked back over, sitting down around the break room table. Ryan took another sip of his coffee, while Esposito ignored his, watching Castle with keen eyes, waiting.

Shifting in his chair, Castle cast a brief glance Kate's way before starting his tale. "We'd worked together for a long time," he said. "Ray was a highly skilled and efficient. But there was always something off about him. He was just too serious all the time." He pursed his lips and frowned, recalling the memories from that night two years ago in Istanbul. "We were on an operation in Turkey. Everything was going fine, when something happened. I don't know what. He got messed up in the head, kept muttering things about conspiracies within conspiracies. We were in country and one night I woke to him raving something about Crusaders, and how they needed to be stopped or it would all unravel."

"What would unravel?" Kate asked, furrowing her brow. This was the first time she'd heard this part. He had told her about his former partner trying to kill him, but he'd never really gone into detail. It wasn't really a night he liked reliving.

Castle shrugged, flashing her an apologetic expression. "I don't know, part of his delusions, I suppose. Anyhow, before I could calm him down, he was attacking me, demanding to know what side I was on. Bastard stabbed me." He tugged on his shirt collar, exposing an angry looking scar on his left shoulder. "I never did get to answer him. He got impatient and knocked me out. When I came too, he was gone." He sighed, and sat back in the chair. "He just disappeared. We thought he'd just snapped, gone crazy. We thought he was dead."

"What changed?" Esposito asked.

"I saw him," Castle said. "Last month, while working an op to capture some gun runners who were supplying terrorist with an intermediary known as 'The Knave'."

"The Knave?" echoed Kate, frowning as she glanced at her partners. "Have either of you ever heard of that alias?"

"No," Esposito shook his head, glancing at Ryan. The young man's brow was furrowed and he was staring down at the tabletop with a thoughtful look on his face. "Bro?"

Ryan snapped his head up. "What?" he gasped. "Oh… The Knave? Yeah… actually, I remember hearing that name when I was working Narcotics. I think the Westies might have had some dealings with someone who went by the name. It was more the gang taskforce's thing, but we'd work together a lot as some of our cases overlapped."

"So he's been around," Kate surmised, her eyes lighting up with the possible leads shaping up before them.

Esposito inclined his head, following her line of thought. "Yeah, and if he worked with the Westies, there might be some info on him in some old case files." He paused, and scrunched up his face in thought. "Look, Beckett, it's been a long day. And it'll take us a while to get, let alone go through all the files—since we're still operating on the down-low so Gates doesn't know somethings up. Why don't you and…," he frown as he glanced at Castle. "I guess I can't call you Writer Boy anymore, now can I?"

"Well, as Kate said, I do still write," Castle said, hamming it up by pretending to type on an invisible typewriter. Humor was always his release during times of stress. And right now, having his former partner—the man who had tried to kill him, along with his girlfriend, albeit in completely separate instances—was rattling him a bit, though he did his best to hide that from Kate. "But just Castle will be fine."

"Right," Esposito said with a quick nod, before turning back to Kate. "Why don't you and Castle go home, get some rest?"

Kate knitted her eyebrows together, looking determined to refuse her colleague's suggestion. But Esposito stared her down. After a moment, Kate began to show signs of breaking. Castle was impressed that it actually seemed to be working. To tell the truth, he was a little jealous.

"Fine," Kate said after a long staring contest between her and Esposito. "We'll go." She stood up and motioned for Castle to follow as she walked towards the break room door. She reached for the doorknob, but stopped and turned around, pointing a finger at Esposito. "But you call me the moment you have something."

And with that said, Castle followed as Kate collected her things off her desk and headed for the elevator. He glanced back at Detectives Ryan and Esposito, watching as the pair exchanged some words before disappearing down the hallway. Castle was still a little concerned over how much they'd revealed, but with Ray Kilmer on the loose, he'd take whatever help he could get. He sighed inwardly. _So much for my time off_ , he thought to himself as the elevator doors rattled opened.

Kate threaded her fingers through his and pulled him inside the lift. Her eyes flicked up to meet his and she offered him a small smile. "So, my place or yours?"

XXX

The chorus of Blue Öyster Cult's _(Don't Fear) The Reaper_ drifted across the room from the speakers of the small radio sitting on the kitchen counter as he flipped through the files on the card table set up in the middle of the room. After disposing of the supplier's body, Ray Kilmer had released Johann Kriedt for the night; dropping the weasel off a block away from the pleasure dungeon the man had made an appointment at earlier in the evening. Of course, he made sure Johann Kriedt got his fingerprints all over the plastic explosives and the accompanying equipment before doing that.

Kilmer grinned, wondering if the man knew he was being set up. Rescuing the arms dealer from Istanbul had only been part of the plan. A much larger plan. It was like a game of chess, and the pieces were now in play. The pawn was being set up to lure the queen out from behind her castle. The metaphor alone made him chuckle darkly.

The only wrinkle in the whole gambit was the appearance of Rick Castle. His employer had been unaware of the relationship between the CIA agent and the homicide detective. According to their source within the Agency, Castle had been ordered to terminate all contact with the detective, and it was understood that he had complied with the order. But apparently that wasn't the case. It now appeared that Rick Castle and Kate Beckett had continued in their illicit relationship for quite some time.

She was an interesting woman. He could see why Castle was attracted to her. Beckett was not only almost excessively attractive for her chosen profession, but she was also extremely intelligent and audacious. Kilmer remembered spying her through the scope almost a year ago, seeing that beauty with his own eyes. Even in a dress uniform, all buttoned up and proper, Kate Beckett was a beautiful woman. He had briefly wondered how a woman like that had ended up with a hit placed on her. A woman with her good looks and smarts should have been a lawyer.

But then he'd shrugged off his curiosity and taken the shot.

Now he knew. This latest dossier on Katherine Houghton Beckett his employer had sent over was quite extensive. So Beckett had lost her mommy when she was nineteen. Boohoo. Lots of people lost loved ones, all the time, but they didn't wallow in grief for a decade, sheltering themselves off from others and bemoaning their lost, like theirs was greater than anything anyone else could have experienced. He felt no sympathy for her then, and he felt even less for her now. In his opinion, she'd let her tragic past define her life. And that made her weak.

He flipped the page and stared at a photograph of her sitting alone on a set of swings. It had been taken three months after he'd shot her. He had meant it to be a kill shot, so was disappointed in her survival. But his employer hadn't been as upset as he'd expected. No. It was to serve as a warning. And it had. Kate Beckett had steered away from her mother's case, allowing them to deal with one lingering problem: Michael Smith.

Captain Roy Montgomery's old friend had acquired a set of files that the deceased captain had been using to blackmail Kilmer's client. Now it was only a matter of time until Kilmer found those files and the deal would be null and void.

Kilmer moved his hand and ran his fingertips along the photograph, tracing the delicate features of his prey. He licked his lips in anticipation. Soon. It was almost time. He couldn't wait to get started. Kate Beckett was a dead woman walking.

She just didn't know it yet.

XXX

Kate watched as Castle pulled out his flip phone to call his mother. After leaving the precinct, they had both decided that it was probably best to stay together at her apartment for the night. Kate felt a little selfish keeping Castle all to herself, especially when he still hadn't seen his daughter since his return. But with everything going on, she really needed him right now. And, having spent time with Alexis during Castle's absence, she knew the teen wouldn't hold it against her for keeping him for the night.

"Mother, please!" Castle let out an exaggerated huff, and sighed dramatically, casting Kate a look and shaking his head as he rolled his eyes. Kate bit her lower lip, stifling a laugh, wondering what embarrassing thing Martha Rodgers had said to get that reaction out of her son. Knowing her boyfriend's mother, Kate would bet good money that Martha had teased him about his sex life and making up for lost time. But a moment later his entire demeanor changed, and his face brightened. "Hello, pumpkin," Castle's voice was warm and soft, his lips spreading wide in a happy smile.

Deciding to give him some privacy while he talked with his daughter, Kate meandered into the kitchen and retrieved two wine glasses from the cupboard, before pulling out a delicious red merlot she'd bought while Castle was away and had been saving for his return. Catching his eyes with a glance, she flicked her head in the direction of the living room. He nodded, understanding her meaning, and Kate smiled softly, slipping out of the kitchen and into her living room.

Kate toed off her shoes, and sank down into the sofa, letting out a sigh as she relaxed back into the comfortable cushions. She took a slow sip of the wine, savoring the rich flavor, and waited. Roughly ten minutes later, she was refilling her glass as Castle joined her, kicking his shoes off and plopping down onto the sofa next to her.

She smiled, smoothing a hand down his shoulder. Her nose wrinkled as she remembered something from earlier in the day that had left her wondering and curious. "Castle, can I ask you a question?"  
"Yeah, Kate, of course," he said, reaching out for the glass of wine she'd prepared for him, and took a long gulp of the red liquid.

"Earlier today, when the boys and I went out to pick up Marisol, I saw you making a call," she hedged, furrowing her brow as she glanced at him cautiously.

"Yeah?"

"Who'd you call?"

He pursed his lips and leaned back into the sofa. "You want the truth?"

"Obviously," she said, surprised by the question.

Castle nodded, and took another long gulp of his wine, nearly finishing it off. "I was just checking in with York," he said. Kate narrowed her eyes, feeling a tightening in her chest at the fact she wasn't certain he was really telling her the truth. Seeing her dubious expression, he continued. "It's just protocol. Even when we're on leave, the Agency likes to keep tabs on us. It's nothing to worry about, Kate. If it was serious, I swear I'd tell you." He paused, and looked her in the eyes. "You believe me, don't you?"

She sighed, and with her free hand, carded her fingers through her hair. "Of course I do, Rick," she said, stretching out to put her glass down on the coffee table. "I'm sorry. I'm just really riled up right now."

"I can see that," he noted with a tight smile, following her lead and depositing his glass on the coffee table. He leaned back into the cushions, moving a hand along her shoulders, kneading his fingers into the tense muscles he found there. "You need to relax, Kate. Let me help you relax."

Kate closed her eyes and let out a soft moan of approval. Castle scooted closer, dipping his head down to press warm kisses along the slope of her neck and the cut of her jawline. He soon found her mouth, and kissed her slowly, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face. She keened softly, easing into his touch. Kate allowed herself to bask in his kiss, and relish the way his lips moved against hers—the nip of his teeth and the flick of his tongue. She curled her fingers along his jaw, deepening the kiss.

She didn't know if he was telling her the complete truth in regards to that earlier phone call at the precinct, but she did believe in his love for her, and hers for him. That was real. And she had no delusions that he could tell her everything. There were obviously many things that were confidential and top secret that he couldn't tell her about. And he was right. If it were important, he'd tell her. He had already done just that when he told her about Ray Kilmer. It amazed her that the same man had wounded both of them, albeit in different ways. Kate could only hope that together they'd find a way to vanquish the specter from their past trauma and come out all the stronger for it… together.

Castle only pulled away from her mouth when breathing was essential. Kate couldn't help but let out a little whimper of disappointment when he did. She wished they could just stay in the moment, locked in their embrace of mutual love. He rested his forehead against hers, sharing the air with her as they panted softly, refilling their lungs. He gently caressed the side of her face, his fingers soft and tender.

"You're not alone, Kate. I'm here. We'll get through this together," he declared. "I promise."

She nodded, and leaned forward to press her lips against his, sealing the vow. Castle sighed when they broke apart, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her close. Kate inhaled, reveling in being surrounded by his comforting scent. Castle nudged his nose against hers.

"You should get some sleep, Kate," he said at length.

"Hmm," she hummed in response, eyes closed. "I'm too wired to sleep. Besides, with everything going on, I don't think I could sleep, even if I wanted to." She opened her eyes, and smiled suggestively up at him. "Perhaps you could distract me."

He let out a low chuckle, and dropped a hand down her side, playfully caressing the jut of her hip. "Oh, I think I can do that, yes," Castle asserted with a mischievous smile, nipping at her lips as he gently coaxed her down onto her back, spreading her out over the sofa beneath him as his talented hands worked sinfully up and down her body, touching her in all the right places. Together, in a slow, sensual dance, they divested each other of every scrap of clothing until they were skin to skin.

Kate mewled contently, arching up into his touch as his hand slipped down between her parted legs. He worked her expertly, knowing just how to touch her. Groaning in displeasure as he withdrew his hand, Kate grabbed his face and pulled him down for a heated kiss, nipping at his lips as she pulled back for air.

"Make me forget, Castle," she commanded in a husky, needy voice. "All I want to think about is you. Make me forget."

And he did.


	10. Chapter 9

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 9**

Kate yawned, raising her arms over her head and arching her back as she stretched. She sighed, relaxing back into the mattress and pillows. The sheets were in disarray, courtesy of the nocturnal activities that she and her boyfriend had engaged in. After their tumble on the sofa, they'd taken the party to the bedroom. Rolling over, she sat up, stretching her legs, groaning at the slight soreness between them. A small smile touched her lips. It had been a long time since she'd had that particular kind of delicious soreness. Too long. It felt good. And in spite of how troubling and stressful the previous evening had been, she had somehow managed to have a restful night's sleep. All thanks to her boyfriend. Castle had been as good as his word. He'd made her forget her troubles, just as she had asked of him.

Climbing out of bed, Kate padded across to her dresser, and tugged on a pair of black cotton panties and shrugged on an oversized NYPD t-shirt. As she was pulling her hair up into a messy bun, her nose twitched, catching a whiff of a rich aroma that smelled like coffee. Nudging the bedroom door open, she walked out into the small kitchen, smiling happily when she spotted Castle standing over her stove, wearing nothing but his boxers. She shuffled into the kitchen and watched as he flipped something over in the frying pan with the spatula.

"You're making pancakes?" she questioned, furrowing her brow as she came to a stop beside him, resting her hip against the kitchen counter, watching as he flipped the fluffy breakfast confection.

Castle glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. "Morning, beautiful," he crooned playfully, closing the small gap between them to press a quick kiss to her lips. "I was hoping for bacon and eggs, but the eggs had expired and the bacon had something… furry on it." He wrinkled his nose up in disgust and shuddered.

Kate bit her lower lip, suppressing a laugh. "Yeah, I mostly order in," she admitted. "I don't entertain much."

"I figured that from the Styrofoam temple you've got going on in there," Castle said, jerking his chin towards the refrigerator. "Oh, by the way. Coffee's brewed." Twisting his torso, he reached back to grab a mug off the kitchen countertop.

She took the opportunity to admire the view, loving the display of his muscles moving underneath his skin. Castle wasn't as ripped as some of her previous boyfriends, but he was solid muscle, toned and healthy. And he had amazing biceps. Kate loved the feeling his arms wrap around her and hold her tight. Even all the numerous and varied scars that marred his chest and back didn't diminish or take away from the glorious sight before her. He'd seen a lot of action and had a lot of stories to tell, though she'd yet to hear all of them.

"Here's your coffee," he said, handing her the mug, snapping her out of her lingering gaze. She flicked her eyes back up to his, and caught his knowing smile.

Kate accepted the mug from him and wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, deeply inhaling the rich scent. "Smells delicious," she commented in surprise. She only had a generic store brand tin of coffee in the cupboard.

Castle flashed her a sheepish grin. "I might have called the coffee shop around the corner and paid a little extra from them to deliver," he confessed.

"Well, my taste buds thank you," Kate declared as she took a slow sip of the delicious skim latte with two pumps of sugar free vanilla masquerading as a homemade cup of joe. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to just drift, allowing herself to be free of all the worries and fears weighing on her. Sighing, she lowered the cup from her mouth and watched as Castle turned the burner off and used the spatula to deposit the final pancake upon a three-layered stack for her.

"Your breakfast is served, milady," he declared dramatically, with the exaggerated hand flourish and accompanying bow as he placed the dish in front of her.

"Looks great, Castle," she said with a beaming smile, accepting a fork. "Did you anticipate me wanting syrup, too?"

His mouth dropped. "Shoot," he snapped his fingers. "I knew I forgot something." His face scrunched up in a frown of disappointment.

Kate laughed, putting her fork down and slipping her arms around his torso, molding her lithe body against his broader frame. She kissed the pout off his mouth, and smoothed her hands up and down his back, taking great pleasure in feeling his warmed flesh beneath her fingertips. Oh, how she loved a shirtless Castle in her kitchen, making her pancakes.

"S'okay," she mumbled, softly pressing her lips against his. "Just teasing you." Kate playfully nibbled at his neck as Castle chuckled and tugged her closer. He nudged her chin back up with his fingers, and kissed her soundly, making her toes curl and coaxing out a little moan from the back of her throat.

"Actually," he said, still smiling at her as they pulled back. "I did anticipate that." He twisted his torso around and reached behind his back, producing a small bottle of maple syrup. "I'll have you know, my dear detective, that I am a highly trained CIA field operative."

Kate's stomach chose that moment to growl, and they both laughed.

"Sounds like someone's hungry," Castle chuckled, eyes crinkling with mirth.

Kate offered him a mild version of her glare, before then deftly snatching the bottle of syrup out of his hand. She stepped away, almost immediately missing the warmth of his body. But right now hunger was winning. And those pancakes did look so very fluffy and delicious.

Castle put his hands on her hips and maneuvered around her in the tight space between the kitchen table and the counter. "Now, you eat and drink your coffee," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips. "I'll grab a quick shower, and then we can head into the precinct."

Kate nodded, picking up the fork and using it to cut up the pancakes. Flicking her eyes up, she watched as Castle jogged into the living room, locating his pants from the where they'd ended up tossed on the sofa last night. Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she stabbed her fork down into a piece of pancake and brought it up to her mouth as she observed him retrieve his flip phone from his pants pockets. Her eyes followed him as he walked towards the bathroom.

She released a breath, and chewed. The pancake was excellent, fluffy and delicious, just the way she liked it. But Kate couldn't help but recognize the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that something wasn't right. Last night she may have written off his remarks about checking in with his boss as the truth because she was distracted and needy, but now, fresh and clear in the morning, Kate was beginning to doubt whether or not her boyfriend—whom she really did trust more than anyone else, which in and of it self, was scary as hell—was actually telling her the whole truth.

He was definitely hiding something from her. They might not have spent a lot of time together since becoming an official couple, but Kate liked to think she knew Castle enough to know that. She did not doubt his feelings for her, or his determination to help in her quest to bring in the man who shot her, especially considering the same man had tried to kill him two years ago. But something had changed since last she'd seen Castle. His admission of seeing Kilmer again whilst on his recent assignment may have something to do with it. The encounter had clearly affected him, much more than he was letting on. She just wished he'd trust her enough to tell her the whole truth and not just part of it.

However, as she heard the shower kick on, Kate decided it could wait. For now they had much bigger fish to fry.

XXX

Castle waited until the shower was running until he flipped opened the TCD-74. His heart clenched briefly as a twinge of guilt rolled up his spine as he punched in the number and pressed the call button. He felt terrible for keeping Kate in the dark, but it couldn't be helped. He'd seen how she was when it came to this case, and he couldn't just stand by and do nothing. He needed to help more than he already was, even if he did so by not discussing it with her. Castle had no doubts as to the explosive nature of what he was doing. He had already mentally prepared himself for the consequences.

He just hoped it didn't cost him Kate.

After three rings, his contact answered the call.

" _Castle_?"

"Is this a secure line?"

" _Yes_."

Castle turned his back to the locked bathroom door, and lowered his head, carding his fingers through his hair. "Did you get a chance to look over the case file I emailed you?"

" _Yes. Interesting read. Seems like the original investigators were part of a conspiracy to cover up the murder, had it labeled as 'random gang violence'. Though I'm curious as to your interest in the case. Weren't you ordered to end your association with her?_ "

His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Since when did I ever follow orders?" Castle's smile faded, replaced with a scowl. "Besides, York and some suits from upstairs already read me the riot act on that."

" _Point taken_ ," his friend said. " _Honestly_ , _I don't care what you do with your personal life, that's none of my business. Just don't let it interfere with your judgment like it did with Turner_."

"Kate Beckett is nothing like Sophia Turner," he growled. "Any comparison between the two is insulting."

" _Alright, alright_ ," soothed his friend. " _No need to get angry._ " He paused for a beat, letting Castle's emotions simmer down. " _So I looked over the addendum report, and I couldn't help but notice that the killer had already been caught, or rather, should I say, brought to justice by means of a bullet—two bullets, to be precise. According to the attached notes by Detective Beckett, Richard Coonan was using the alias_ _of Rathborne at the time. I've done a search on known associates, but haven't come up with much. The bastard was smart_."

"Well, I got another name you can run and see if there is a connection," Castle said, pausing to swallow heavily.

" _Yes_?"

"Raymond Kilmer," he almost spat the name out.

" _Shit. He… he's alive_?"

"Unfortunately," Castle grumbled. "I ran into him on assignment in Istanbul. He helped Johann Kriedt escape."

There was a long pause while his friend absorbed the new information. " _I'll create a search algorithm to include all of Kilmer's known aliases, see if there's any connection between him and Coonan_."

"While you're at it, run a check on Kriedt as well?"

" _Already on it_ ," he hesitated for a moment. " _Now, tell me, have you told Detective Beckett about this yet_?"

Castle sighed, knowing he was in for a lecture. "Yeah, about that…"

XXX

Ray Kilmer woke early, like he always did, before the sun even crested the horizon. After a vigorous workout, he showered and shaved. He dress quickly, all black. He went back out to the kitchen, stretching his muscles in anticipation for what the day would bring. If everything went according to plan, Kate Beckett would be dead. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the orange juice, taking a deep gulp straight from the carton. Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, Kilmer returned the carton to the refrigerator, and stepped over to the kitchen table.

He moved around some of the papers scattered across the table, narrowing his eyes as he located a set of building blueprints. He had examined them last night, but he wanted to review them one more time before heading out. Shifting through the papers, Kilmer started planning out each task he needed to accomplish this morning.

The buzzing of his phone pulled his attention away from the blueprints. He pulled the device out of his pocket and answered.

"Yes."

" _They're leaving the apartment_ ," came the voice of his informant. The phone buzzed again, and Kilmer pulled it away to see a text message with a photo attachment showing Beckett and Castle exiting the building.

"Good," he said. "Keep an eye on the place. I'm on my way."

He hung up, and pocketed his phone as he stood. Grabbing a pair of gloves, he tugged them on, and then went into the meager living room to retrieve the rucksack with the wired explosives he'd assembled the previous night. He shouldered the bag, and walked towards the door, a sadistic smirk tugging his lips up.

The day might have started off slow, but it was definitely going to end with a bang.

XXX

The drive from her apartment had been silent, almost awkwardly so between her and Castle. And Kate hated that. Since acknowledging their shared feelings, they had yet to spend enough time together, at least beyond the consummating of those feelings—numerous and multiple times—to really understand and know every nuance of the each other. Though, Kate had to admit, Castle was an excellent observer, and he seemed to have little trouble reading between the lines. Her, on the other hand, sometimes found it difficult to get a read on him.

The light banter and playfulness from their morning had disappeared after he'd finished his shower. He had avoided her eyes for a millisecond too long after emerging from the bathroom, and though she might not have known every single one of his ticks and tells, Kate Beckett felt confident in her belief that he was hiding something from her.

Which was what led to the awkward silence.

Swallowing past the tightening in her throat, Kate glanced over at Castle as they stepped into the precinct elevator. His usual jovial features were marred by a slight frown. Sighing, Kate pressed the button for the homicide floor, and forced an end to the silence.

"What's up with you, Rick?" she asked, startled by the sound of her own voice.

"What… what do you mean?" he stammered, brow furrowing further.

She bit her lower lip and glanced down at the coffee cup in her hands. They'd stopped by the local coffee shop, and Castle had purchased another large skim latte with two pumps of sugar free vanilla for her.

"Kate?"

Releasing a breath, she lifted her head and locked eyes with her boyfriend. "You've been acting strange since your shower," she stated. "What's going on?"

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes staying on hers. "I'm just worried about Kilmer being out there, and what he's doing," he asserted, and Kate hated how her gut twisted uncertainly at that statement, as she couldn't help wondering if he was telling her the whole truth.

Lies were a relationship killer, and considering how young and fresh their relationship really was, she did not like that it was already making an appearance. She must have let her displeasure show, because the next moment Castle was stepping closer to her, licking his lips nervously as if he was considering coming clean with what was really going on. She had a pretty good feeling that it didn't have to do with anything top secret or confidential. Though it did seem to be linked to Ray Kilmer's appearance, but it definitely went beyond his former partner being out there. Kate just wished he could trust her with all of it, and not just part of it.

She shifted her weight on her feet, and pursed her lips in anticipation of her boyfriend finally telling her the whole truth. But before he could open his mouth, the elevator doors were opening up on the homicide floor. Kate sighed, and gave him a pointed look, letting him know that he was off the hook, at least for now. Whatever worries and concerns Beckett had about what her boyfriend was trying to conceal from her was going to have to be pushed aside until later. Right now, she needed to focus on the case, and on finding Ray Kilmer. The bastard had a lot to answer for.

Beckett marched in the bullpen, all business, ready to get to work. Castle followed behind her like a chastised puppy. She was pleased he was contrite, and hoped that this small bump would ultimately result in a strengthening of their relationship. Because although it was still relatively new, Kate Beckett was already determined that this relationship would be her last and final. Rick Castle was it for her. If she was certain about anything in her life right now, it was that. He was her one and done.

Turning to approach her desk, Beckett noticed that Esposito was already there. He was standing by the white board, hands on his hips, and brow furrowed in contemplation. And judging by his rumpled shirt, unshaven face, and his disheveled appearance in general, she would guess he'd been there all night. She put her bag down on her chair and turned to Esposito, noticing the rings around his eyes, and the overall weariness in his features, confirming her suspicions. He looked tired.

"Stay up late?" she asked with a disapproving frown, feeling a twinge of guilt for having rested so well, despite indulging in some passionate nocturnal activities with Castle.

"Yeah, I was reviewing the security footage from the church," he informed her, holding a hand up over his mouth to stifle a yawn. He shifted back to rest his backside against the side of her desk.

"Espo," she choked out, shaking her head apologetically as she approached him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "You didn't have to do that."

He gave her a soft smile. "It's okay, chica," he assured her with a shrug. "I had nothing better to do. Besides, we need to get this son of a bitch off the streets as soon as possible."

"Here, you need this more than me," Castle said, stepping forward and handing Esposito his cup of coffee.

"Thanks, bro," he said, accepting the proffered cup with a grateful nod. He took a big gulp of the hot liquid. Licking his lips, Esposito looked back up at them with more focused eyes. "Anyways, my time wasn't wasted. I found something." He stood up from the edge of Beckett's desk, and gestured towards his own. They followed him over, and Esposito leaned down, punching a few buttons on his keyboard to pull up the video feed.

Beckett stared down at the image of Ray Kilmer walking down the aisle, wondering what it was that her colleague had seen. Esposito cocked his head to give both her and Castle a sideways glance.

"Tell me you see it?" he said.

"Nope."

"Sorry."

Esposito rolled his eyes, and rewound the footage. He paused it just as Kilmer was stepping out from behind the pews. "There," he pointed towards the screen. "You see that? He's holding something in his right hand."

Beckett squinted at the grainy image. "No. Still don't—Wait! Yeah, I see it." She nodded, exchanging a look with Castle, before turning back to Esposito, a hopeful look brightening up her face. "Rental car keys!"

This might be the break they were looking for.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beckett spotted Castle reach for his phone. He was about to flip it open when he noticed her disapproving gaze. Offering her a tight smile, he slipped his phone back into his pocket, and she turned back to Esposito.

"I'm assuming you already did a check on all rental cars in the area?" Beckett asked.

Esposito nodded, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Eastway rented 700 cars last Wednesday."

At the moment, Ryan appeared, hustling in from the hallway. He looked flustered, but offered them all a cheery greeting, before nudging Esposito aside to take over the computer. Esposito grumbled, but stepped aside when he noticed the look on his partner's face.

"I found him!" he declared excitedly.

"What!?"

"How?"

Ryan heaved in a breath, and tapped his fingers across the keyboard. "Oh, sorry. No, I didn't mean it like that. Sorry," he grimaced, flashing them all an apologetic look.

"Then what did you find?" Beckett asked, trying hard not to get irritated at the false hope.

"This," the young detective asserted, punching one last button on the keyboard before gesturing theatrically towards the image that popped up on the computer monitor.

"Oh yeah, that's him," Castle said with a nod, craning his neck around Beckett's shoulder to get a look. "I see he still has that smug smirk."

"That's a Kansas driver's license," Esposito noted, squinting at the screen. "Seems he's going by Cole Maddox."

"Obviously it's a cover," Beckett said, exchanging a glance with Castle. "Has he used it before?"

Castle shook his head. "It must be one of his new aliases."

"I doubled checked the name with those the car rental company provided and I got a hit," Ryan continued with his report. "According to their records, he rented right out of JFK. Arrived there under the same name on a flight from Atlanta."

"Did he return the car?" Beckett asked.

"No," Ryan shook his head.

"Damn," she hissed under her breath, her shoulders tensing with frustration. Without hesitation Castle placed a comforting hand on her back. She closed her eyes, and heaved in a deep, calming breath as he continued to rub soothing patterns along her back.

Feeling more composed and relaxed, Beckett pursed her lips and turned her head to lock eyes with Castle, silently thanking him for the support. They may have some crossed wires at the moment, but despite all that, she knew that she could trust him when it mattered most. Castle gave a subtle nod of his head, telling her with just the small gesture that he knew what she was thinking, and was confirming her unspoken impression.

"You've got this," he murmured softly, for her ears only. "You're not alone. I'm right here."

She swallowed thickly, and nodded, offering him a small smile, which he reciprocated. Her heart unclenched, and she breathed easier, feeling some of the awkward tension between them that had been building since the morning fade away. Beckett was still curious over what he was keeping from her, but she no longer saw it as something ominous and destructive. The emotions in his eyes were genuine and sincere. Castle was going to stand by her, no matter what. She would do the same in his place. She had. There was no reason for her to start doubting things now. Their love was stronger than the shadow of her mother's death and her own tragic shooting.

"Actually, this is good," Esposito said, interrupting their moment.

Beckett snapped her gaze back to him. "What?" she gasped, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, not following his reasoning.

"Eastway maintains GPS tracking on all of its equipment," he explained. "So we can get a trace and find out where he parked the car."

"And there's a good chance that where we find the car, we'd find him," Beckett nodded, finishing his explanation herself. She allowed herself to smile, just a little. She didn't want to get her hopes up too much. But it was hard not to, especially when they were so close. She pursed lips, and gave a quick jerk of her head. "Do it."


	11. Chapter 10

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 10**

"Who are you? And what are you doing in my precinct!?"

The heads of almost everyone in the homicide bullpen turned as one towards the slightly irate woman standing on the cusp of the room. Castle had been wondering when he would meet Captain Victoria Gates. According to Beckett, her commanding officer had been called into One Police Plaza to discuss security procedures for a re-election fundraiser for Senator William Bracken being held this upcoming weekend. And since Vice President Russell was going to be in attendance, the NYPD was going to be working closely with the Secret Service. Castle understood that walk all too well. Inter-agency cooperation was never as easy at it looked on paper.

Beckett's head swerved up from the report she'd been reading and her eyes went wide with panic. Castle noted that her colleagues, Detectives Esposito and Ryan, were equally alarmed. Beckett averted her eyes, and heaved in a deep breath, as if she were preparing to confess to her parents that she'd been sneaking out at night to meet up with a boy. Castle smirked and shot her a cocky wink, before pushing himself out of the chair beside her desk as Captain Gates came storming towards him.

"Ah, you must be Captain Gates," Castle spoke in a smooth and calm voice before the woman could even finish opening her mouth. Beckett had a terrified look on her face, subtly shaking her head at him, but he ignored her warnings. Almost everyone in the bullpen was watching the scene unfold. It was like a car wreck on the highway, no one could help but rubberneck.

Fortunately, he had it covered.

Flashing a charming grin in the captain's direction, Castle slipped his hand inside his jacket. "I'm Special Agent Richard Castle, FBI," he proclaimed, displaying a badge and appropriate credentials.

"FBI, you say?" Gates inquired with narrowed eyes as she inspected his credentials. Seemingly satisfied, she handed them back, and appraised him with a mild disdainful expression. He didn't know whether to be offended or not. "And what brings you to the 12th precinct, Agent Castle?"

Castle smiled politely, pocketing the badge. "An IAFIS search popped up a red flag in our system. Once we ran the fingerprints through our internal servers, we discovered that the prime suspect in your detectives' current case is connected to similar crimes in numerous cities across the country."

"Is that so?" Gates crossed her arms.

"Yes," Castle said, his voice reflecting nothing but confidence. "We believe he's a hired gun. He's wanted for assassinations not just here in the States but overseas as well. Detective Beckett was gracious enough to allow me to assist."

Gates pursed her lips, frowning as she turned towards Beckett. "Is this true, Detective?"

"Yes, sir," Beckett nodded, standing up to support Castle's story. She shot him an annoyed look, before refocusing on her captain. "His… um… supervisor, Special Agent Martin Danberg, called just before Agent Castle showed up. He wanted to give us a heads up."

"I see," Gates said, rubbing her hand along her chin. "Alright, if he checks out, then I guess we can accommodate the FBI." She turned to Castle and offered him her hand. "Nice to meet you, Agent Castle. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Captain Gates," Castle accepted her proffered hand, smiling widely. "Your team has been nothing but professional. A credit, I should think, to your leadership."

Gates smiled at that, and she inclined her head in gratitude, before making her farewells and heading for her office. When the door shut, Castle turned to Beckett with a smug grin.

"That went well."

"Are you insane!?" Beckett whispered harshly, ducking her head down as if she were worried that Captain Gates would pop out of her office to catch them red handed.

"Relax, Kate," Castle assured her, wearing a slight amused expression as he slipped his hand back inside his jacket to retrieve the badge and credentials again. He handed them over to her for inspection. "The Agency doesn't train fools, you know. They taught us to prepare for any eventuality. And I, Detective Beckett, am always prepared."

She harrumphed at that assertion. "Yeah, I was wondering why you were wearing a suit and tie when we left my apartment," she said, slapping his forged FBI credentials into his chest after she'd taken the time to examine them. He caught them with both hands and offered her a small smile. "You're lucky Gates's mind was still on that meeting at One Police Plaza," she continued, "otherwise she would have asked for your supervisor's number for confirmation."

"Oh, I was prepared for that as well," Castle informed her with a cheeky grin. "As part of his cover, Danberg has an official listing at the FBI."

"Pretty risky there, Castle," Beckett clucked her tongue at him, "considering that idea hinged on me providing Captain Gates with Agent Danberg's name when she asked."

"I was betting on our mind meld," Castle grinned back at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "We work so well without words. Last night, for example."

Beckett favored him with a disapproving glare.

He dismissed her pointed look with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Besides, I was prepared to give her Danberg's name and number if you froze up. Thankfully, you didn't." He tapped the side of his head and gestured between them. "What did I tell you? Mind meld." She rolled her eyes, and he grinned. "Anyways, Danberg would have covered for me, no questions asked, if the need ever arose."

"Such faith in a man who'd just months ago had been tasked with hunting you down," she shot back with a small upwards quirk of her lips.

"Hey," Castle scoffed, feigning offense on his friend's behalf. "Martin was just doing his job. He's a straight arrow that one. His loyalty is above reproach."

"I'll take your word on that," she said, turning back around to her desk. She picked up the report she'd been reading, and Castle moved in behind her, looking over her shoulder. Her head jerked up, and she narrowed her eyes, stepping away from him and generating a little more of a professional distance between the two of them.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"Ryan was able to find those files on 'The Knave' from the gang taskforce he'd worked with when he was with Narcotics," Beckett explained. "You said the op in Turkey that Kilmer broke up was a set up to try and capture this 'Knave'?"

Castle inclined his head, furrowing his brow as he glanced down at the report. "Yeah, that's right. We were using Johann Kriedt as bait. We knew through sources that he'd worked with 'The Knave' before, and we were hoping to use that relationship to our advantage. My superiors believe Kriedt hired Kilmer to rescue him."

Beckett tilted her head, wrinkling her nose in thought. "And you?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Kilmer's not just a hired thug. He's a former agent with extensive training in covert operations. He may be bat-shit crazy, but Ray knows how to look at the big picture. He wouldn't have helped out Kriedt unless there was something in it for him as well."

"I see," she shifted on her feet, frowning down at the file. "When was it that you said Kilmer tried to kill you?"

"Two years ago," he answered.

"Any indication he was rogue before that?" she asked, her tone not giving away anything.

"From his ravings, I'd wager good money that that would be a definite possibility," Castle nodded, and then narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Beckett, wondering what she was thinking. "Why?"

"It's just…," she frowned, and shook her head, turning to lock eyes with him. "Don't you find it's strange that at the same time you're trying to smoke out 'The Knave' is the same time that Kilmer reappears?"

"Just a coincidence," Castle shrugged, not following her logic, but then again, he wasn't a trained investigator like she was. He was interested in seeing where her line of reasoning led.

"Castle, if there is one thing I've learned in my years in homicide is that coincidences are extremely rare."

"Wait? Are you saying that Ray Kilmer could be 'The Knave'?" he asked, almost incredulous. If that were true, surely the boys back at Langley would have arrived at the same conclusion long before now.

Beckett let out a breath, and stepped back, carding her fingers through her hair. "It's just a theory, Castle," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "But from what we know about Kilmer or Maddox—or whatever the hell he's going by—it's pretty clear he's got a network of contacts and safe houses if he's managed to elude the CIA for this long."

Castle stared back at Beckett, absorbing what she had said. From what he knew about 'The Knave' and what the man was capable of, it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that he was a rogue agent. And Beckett was also right about coincidences. Castle had been on enough blown operations to know that there was no such thing as a coincidence. If the man walking by the bus stop looked like an enemy agent, there was a good chance he was.

He swallowed, unsure how to feel about this. If Kilmer was 'The Knave'… then it was big. Really big. Big enough that he'd definitely have to call York. And it would also mean that Sophia Turner was not alone in being a mole. He didn't know which terrified him more.

Castle was startled out of his thoughts when someone cleared their throat. He arched his neck and looked over his shoulder, seeing Captain Gates leaning out of her office door.

"Agent Castle, can I have a word with you?" she asked.

He exchanged a cautious glance with Beckett, before schooling his features and turning around to face the captain. "Yes, of course," he plastered a polite smile on his face, and stepped over to join the captain in her office.

XXX

Agent Martin Danberg walked back into his office, hurrying his pace when he heard his desk phone ring. He really hoped it wasn't Castle calling again to ask for more favors. He was pushing it as it was with looking into the Johanna Beckett murder atop of his already heavy workload. Placing his recently filled cup of coffee down, Danberg grabbed the phone out of its cradle, bringing it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

He frowned as the ringing persisted. Placing the phone back in its cradle, he scrunched up his face in annoyance, and suppressed a groan. _Castle_. He knew he'd made a mistake when he had agreed to do the man a favor.

Sitting down at his desk, Danberg yanked his drawer open and answered the ringing phone hiding there.

"This is Special Agent Martin Danberg," he answered.

" _Hello_ ," came a stern, authoritative female voice. " _Captain Victoria Gates of the NYPD's 12_ _th_ _precinct_."

"Captain," he greeted her cordially. "What can I do for you?"

" _I have an Agent Richard Castle here_ ," she explained. " _I know you spoke with Detective Beckett, but I felt the need to personally call for confirmation_."

Danberg suppressed a smirk, leave it to Castle to run this legend without giving him any warning. Though, he supposed the phone call this morning should have given him a heads up. "Yes, he's one of mine," he affirmed. "As you're probably aware, the Bureau monitors all ongoing investigations throughout New York for potential red flags. One occurred yesterday, and I sent Special Agent Castle out to liaison with your detectives."

" _Yes, that's what I was told_ ," Gates said. " _We're more than happy to assist the FBI in anything they need. Just, next time, contact me directly, and not one of my detectives, before you send one of your agents into my precinct_. _I don't like being surprised by unexpected guests._ "

"Understood, Captain," Danberg replied, and then paused for a beat. "Is Agent Castle with you right now?"

" _Yes, he is_."

"Can you put him on, please?" he asked.

" _Sure_."

There was the shuffle of the phone exchanging hands, and then Castle's low voice came on the line.

" _Yes, sir?_ " he questioned, playing the role of subordinate for the NYPD Captain's benefit.

"What happened to the writer cover story?" Danberg asked.

" _Um… something came up_."

"Right, well, just so you know," he grinned as he leaned back in his chair. "You owe me."

There was a long pause before Castle answered. " _Duly noted_."

XXX

That was a close call.

Luckily Agent Danberg had been able to catch on quickly and play the role of a senior special agent based out of the New York Federal building. She may have accepted Castle in front of her detectives, but it was clear Captain Gates was a strict, by the book, precinct captain.

When she'd handed him the phone, Castle had caught a glimpse of her computer monitor, which displayed the fictitious FBI service record the boys back at Langley had set up for him during assignment with Operation Mockingbird. He'd have to give Agent Riley a bottle of the good stuff in gratitude for procrastinating deleting the digital cover from the servers.

Castle stepped out of Captain Gates' office, and released a sigh of relief. He was mildly surprised to find Kate's desk empty. He glanced around the bullpen, but didn't see her. Her colleagues, Detectives Esposito and Ryan, were sitting at their desks, still waiting for someone from Eastway Car Rentals to call them back.

"Where's Kate?" he asked.

Esposito glanced up. "Break room," he answered.

Castle gave a nod of thanks, and turned to jog towards the break room. He found her sitting in one of the chairs at the small table, her face concealed by the curtain of her hair. She was staring blankly down at her lap, wringing her hands together, one leg bouncing anxiously.

"You doing okay?" he asked, approaching with caution, not wanting to spook her.

Kate glanced up and exhaled slowly, offering him a weak smile. "It's just… hard, you know? The waiting. But… I'm fine." She paused and swallowed, her eyebrows knitting together in concentration. "I'm in control."

Closing the distance between them, Castle knelt down in front of her and placed one of his large hands over hers. For a brief moment, he thought she might pull away, but she didn't. Her shoulders shuddered, and she let out a shaky breath, blinking her eyes to stave off the build up of moisture. He watched as she bit her lip as she struggled to maintain control. Castle gave her hands a supportive squeeze, before stretching up and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Kate closed her eyes, and eased into his touch, letting out a comforted sigh.

"I'm here," he hushed out, firm and quiet. "You're not alone. I'm here. I'll do whatever you want, even if it is to do nothing."

She nodded, her smile stronger than before. And they stayed that way for a while, silent in each other's company. His presence seemed to soothe her, and Castle held his tongue, letting her make the next move.

"So, um… what did Gates want?" Kate asked at length, glancing up at him with hesitant eyes. It was a deflection, and he knew it, but he allowed her it this once.

"I don't think Captain Gates likes me," Castle said with a slight smirk, hoping to coax a laugh, even a small one, from his girlfriend. "Seems your word wasn't enough. She needed further confirmation. Thankfully Danberg still has his FBI legend to back up my story. He's even listed on the official FBI roster as a senior special agent stationed at the New York field office in the Federal building downtown. And I was very lucky that Langley hadn't yet yanked the fake FBI service records they'd cooked up for me while I was assigned to Operation Mockingbird."

"Good," she bobbed her head, letting out a little sniffle and wiping at her eyes. "Good. I don't think I could do this without you."

"Oh, you could, Kate," he asserted, firm in his conviction. She glanced up at him in disbelief. He laughed lightly, and brought up a hand to caress the side of her face. "It might be difficult, and frustrating, but you could have done this without me. You're strong, Kate."

She shook her head. "I don't know. It's been over ten years since we came home and found a detective waiting for us, since we cross that yellow tape and went into that alley," she paused to collect herself, taking a deep breath. "Every time I cross that tape at a crime scene I still think of that night.

Castle nodded sympathetically, letting his hand drop to hers. She flipped hers over and their palms kissed. He intertwined their fingers together and squeezed reassuringly. "And that's what makes you such a good cop," he said.

Kate raised her head up, locking eyes with him. She looked so despondent and uncertain... lost, like she had been when he first met her seven months ago. "What if I let her down?"

Her question hung between them for a long beat, before Castle could think of a counter. He licked his lips and stared up at her, projecting as much adoration from his gaze as he could. "Do you know why I chose you to be my inspiration for Nikki Heat?" he asked.

She blinked, startled by the question. Kate understood how deeply personal his writing was to him, how it helped him cope with the stress in his line of work. Castle also knew she was still confused over his reasoning to use her for the inspiration for Nikki Heat. She really didn't understand just how special she was. Her eyes shot up to his and her brow furrowed in confusion. "No. Why?"

He smiled softly, and squeezed her hand. "Because you're tall."

And that did it, brought a smile to her face like he knew it would. It was timid, but it was genuine. Kate's eyes glistened with gratitude and she moved her hand up to cup his jaw, the pad of her thumb caressing his cheek. Her smile brightened as her eyes sparked with that affectionate fondness she'd developed for his sense of humor.  
"Thanks, Castle," she smiled. "I really needed that."

"Anytime," he reciprocated, flashing her a wink, and tipping her chin up so he could claim her mouth in a soft kiss. She let out a little hum of approval, and sunk into him, her fingers grasping his shoulders for support.

And then someone cleared his throat.

Castle grunted in displeasure, but leaned back and arched his neck over his shoulder to see Detective Esposito standing in the doorway, Ryan all but hiding behind him. Kate's cheeks turned an adorable rosy shade of pink as she ducked her head down bashfully.

"It could have been worse," he whispered to her in a hushed voice. "It could've been Gates."

Kate groaned, fighting back her embarrassment at being caught making out with her boyfriend, and gently nudged him back as she brushed her hair away from her face, glancing around his shoulder to look up at her colleague. "What do you want, Espo?"

"We got a GPS trace on Maddox's rental," he informed them. "We tracked it to the lower East Side down to a one block radius around the Rosslyn Hotel. I've already called ahead, and the hotel manager confirmed that a person with the name 'Cole Maddox' checked in a couple of days ago, paid upfront—in cash—for the whole month. I'd say this is our guy."

Kate absorbed all the information without so much as a blink. And then it happened, in a snap, Kate was gone, replaced by Detective Beckett. Castle stood and stepped back as she rose from the chair, a look of determination working its way onto her face. Her jaw was clenched and her gaze as a steel edge to it. He thought he finally understood what this case did to her. He hadn't fully grasped it before. But now, he knew. Castle swallowed past the lump of worry that had lodged its way into his throat, resolved to stand by Beckett in her crusade for justice, even if it meant charging heedlessly into battle with a psycho killer like Ray Kilmer.

"Great," she nodded, and glanced towards Ryan. "You stay on grid, let us know if he moves. Esposito, you're coming with me and Castle."

"Right," Esposito bobbed his head, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight.

Castle filled his lungs and clenched his jaw. The last thing they wanted to do was get into a fight with Ray Kilmer. The guy was good. Really good. Sure, Castle was more than happy to toot his own horn, but even he could acknowledge that Kilmer was better than him when it came to hand to hand combat. Still, it didn't mean he wasn't willing to try for a rematch with his former partner turned deadly assassin, no matter how insane the idea was.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ryan held up his hands, blocking the exit when they'd turn to leave. "What are you doing?" He glanced at all three of them. "You want to do this, you do it right. You put a team on that car and you bring backup with you."

Castle watched as Beckett's shoulders tensed. "Ryan," she implored, "this whole thing started because of a group of corrupt cops. How do you know there aren't more out there? We're about an inch away from catching this guy. And I'm not going to blow it by advertising our next move."

"With all due respect, this guy put a bullet in your heart and then he disappeared into the ether," Ryan stood his ground. Castle had to give it to him; the guy had guts. Ryan sighed, and turned towards Castle, hoping to appeal to his better judgment. "Come on, Castle. You, more so than any of us, know what this man's capable of. Yesterday you told us—right here, in this very room—how Kilmer busted up a CIA operation and got away with an internationally wanted arms dealer. You, of all people, should know that you cannot go in there unprepared."

Castle opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Beckett was still in-between them, glaring down at Ryan with barely contained outrage. "Unprepared!?" she snapped. "I've been preparing for this for the past 13 years."

And then she was shoving past him and stalking out of the break room. Esposito shot Ryan an incredulous look, and moved to follow Beckett.

"Wait, Javier!" Ryan grabbed his partner's arm, halting his departure. "Man, don't let her do this. It's too big of a risk."  
Esposito paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he studied his friend. "It's all good, bro," he stated in a calm voice. And then he jerked his head in Castle's direction. "We have Spy Boy with us. We got this."

Castle sighed, a feeling of uncertainty developing low in his stomach as he moved to follow the departing Esposito. Ryan cast him a pitiful look.

"Castle," he all but begged, looking despondent. "You know I'm right."

He swallowed, and averted his gaze, glancing out the break room to see Kate waiting by the elevator, her foot tapping impatiently. Sighing, Castle turned back to the younger man and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I do," he said. "But I also know that Kate isn't going to back down, no matter what we say. So the best I can do is support her, even if she's making a mistake, and do my best to protect her and ensure that she survives this, whatever the cost… because, I love her. I couldn't do any less."

Ryan's throat bobbed and he shook his head, though clearly understanding Castle's reasoning, still disagreeing. Castle patted the man's shoulder, and then stepped around him, striding out to join Beckett and Esposito, and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was a terrible mistake.

XXX

Ray Kilmer walked down the front steps of the apartment complex. It had been easy to get past the building manager, Ernie Hostetler. The man had been a bumbling, old fool, and was easily convinced that he was from the city utilities management department, checking on a reported gas leak. Kilmer had even been able to provide the old man with written documents of the building owner requesting someone to come and check the gas in the building. The manager had then provided Kilmer with the keys, and then he had gone about his business.

Once Mr. Hostetler got out of his hair, it had been quick work. After all, he had only really needed to visit one apartment. If his assignment weren't time sensitive, Kilmer would have taken the time to peruse his prey's living space. He reveled in the idea that he was able to pry into someone's life without her knowledge. With Detective Beckett, he would have started with her lingerie drawer, curious to see if she kept any toys there. Not that he'd care either way, just that that knowledge of such things would then provide him with something which he could later flaunt in Castle's face. However, time was a factor, so he just did what he needed to do, and then left, tossing keys carelessly in the hallway as he left the building.

Kilmer took a deep breath of the midmorning air, and smiled. Now if things didn't go as planned, he had a failsafe in place to ensure completion of the contract. He jogged across the intersection to meet up with his contact, who was, no doubt, waiting for a status update to relay back to the client. Needing to keep his rental car in its present location, Kilmer had rode over in a cab. So he would need a lift back to the hotel.

"How'd it go?" his contact questioned as they climbed into an inconspicuous gray sedan.

"Good," Kilmer responded with pursed lips and a neutral expression. "You can tell your boss that all the pieces are in place. It's Detective Beckett's move now."


	12. Chapter 11

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 11**

The afternoon sun blazed relentlessly down on her as she stood on the edge of the sidewalk across the street from the Rosslyn Hotel. Her brow was set in a determined fashion, fierce and tenacious. Castle stood off to the side, regarding her with a cautious expression. Kate Beckett was wound tight—back stiff, hands resting on her hips, and one foot tapping impatiently. She did not do well with waiting. Rushing in half-cocked into situation such as this had been one of his specialties as a covert operative for the CIA. In his younger days at the Agency he had been notorious for giving his handlers near crippling headaches when he would abandon the exhaustively crafted operation plan, and make it up on the go.

But this was different.

Going up against an adversary like Ray Kilmer was an altogether different scenario. He would rather err on the side of cautious and be prudent, than heedlessly jump into a fight where the chances of winning were slim. Three against one were usually good odds. Except when it came to a psycho killer like Ray Kilmer, a man who reveled in violence and death. Castle had barely escaped with his life the first time. And the second time he had been outwitted and outmanned. Last month, the assassin had meticulously planned the extraction of Johann Kriedt from Istanbul. Kilmer had toyed with Castle, playing a form of psychological warfare that he had mastered years prior.

Castle pursed his lips as he regarded the striking detective beside him. Noticing his gaze, Beckett bit her lower lip and ducked her head. She carded her fingers through her long hair as she glanced back up at him, her eyes soft with just a hint of the steel edge that had previously consumed them.

"You know it's creepy when you stare, right?" she declared, her lips quirking upwards a fraction of an inch.

He replied with a shrug. "Helps me relax before a fight," he admitted, knitting his eyebrows together as he momentarily averted his gaze as he continued his confession. "Since I've been gone, on a mission… thinking of you, it helps calm my nerves."

Castle watched in amazement as the façade of Detective Beckett faded away to reveal the woman beneath. Kate offered him a warm smile, relaxing her shoulders as she reached out for his hand. He quickly interlaced their fingers. Their palms kissed and, almost at the same moment, they each released a sigh of relief and reassurance.

"Thank you," Kate spoke softly.

"For what?" he questioned.

"For being here, with me," she supplied. "I know it can't be easy, especially considering your history with the suspect."

He gave a slight nod of confirmation. "Is it unmanly to admit I'm afraid."

"No," she shook her head, offering him a small smile and a reassuring squeeze of her hand as she stepped closer. "No, it isn't. In fact, I find the honesty both refreshing and attractive."

He grinned at that, moving a hand up to tenderly caress the side of her face. Kate closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, finding strength. She licked her lips and ducked her head down, heaving in a deep breath.

"I'm scared, too, Castle," she admitted with watery eyes as she glanced back up at him. "This man… he… he shot me in the chest, nearly killed me. It's going to take all my strength to face him. So… I… I'm just…" her voice trailed off as she momentarily became overwhelmed with emotion.

He dropped his hand down to her waist and gently brushed his fingertips soothingly up along her side, just about where the surgical scar was hidden under the layers of clothing she wore. "I'm here, Kate," he spoke softly, in low reassuring tones. "I'm right here."

Kate swallowed thickly, and glanced back up at him. "I'm glad were doing this together," she finished her thought. "I don't think I could do this without you."

"You could," he insisted, ignoring her scoff and eye roll.

She sighed, and leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. He closed his eyes, and shared the air with her and they each gained courage for the coming battle from the other.

"Hey!" hollered Esposito as he jogged across the street, breaking their moment.

Kate brushed a fingers down his arm and found his hand, again, offering him one finally comforting squeeze, before withdrawing. When she pulled back, the mask of Detective Beckett was once again firmly in place. Castle pursed his lips and clenched his jaw as he turned towards the approaching detective.

"We got him!" Esposito announced, joining them on the sidewalk. He gestured back to the Rosslyn Hotel. "The doorman from the hotel ID'd the car and the front desk clerk confirms Cole Maddox is here on a one month lease. They've agreed to let us into his room."

"Good work," Beckett offered her colleague a small smile. She glanced back at Castle. "Ready?"

He nodded.

"Then let's get this son-of-a-bitch."

XXX

Beckett stood in the hallway, gun drawn, impatiently watching as the nervous hotel manager worked at unlocking the door to Room 34. The man had been hesitant at first, considering their lack of a search warrant, but then Castle flashed his CIA-manufactured FBI badge—which was really just as good as a real one—and added a heavy dose of that innate charisma that made him such an effective undercover agent. Needless to say, it did not take long for him to convince the man that it was vital to national security that he unlocked Room 34 for them.

She pursed her lips and squeezed her fingers around the handle of her gun. She drew in a slow breath, steeling herself for the coming confrontation with the bastard who shot her in the chest. Her heart pumped wildly underneath her breast, forcing her to rely on all her training to keep herself calm and in the moment. Beckett ignored the slight throbbing ache from the surgical scar along her side. She could ill afford a panic attack slowing her reaction time in the heat of battle.

The manager finally got the door opened and started to stick his head across the threshold, but Esposito stepped in and quickly pulled the man back, hurriedly muttering, "Get out of the way."

Beckett raised her weapon, and surged forward, pressing up against the right side of the doorsill, eyes wide and alert. Castle came in after her, sweeping into the room, his face set in a neutral expression. He checked the living room for any signs of their target. As Castle moved off towards the adjacent bedroom and bathroom, Beckett turned, pivoting on her feet, tensed posture and stiff back as she searched the small kitchen area off to the left. Esposito hovered in the doorway, watching their backs.

"Clear!" Castle hollered from the hall, stepping back into the living room.

She echoed his call, lowering her gun and loosening her posture as she joined him in the living room. Beckett's chest unclenched and she released a breath. With the immediate threat of a confrontation with Kilmer removed, at least for the moment, she was then able to survey the residential hotel suite as she would if it had been a crime scene she'd been called too. Her eyes scanned the small kitchen, and she soon spotted a stack of files and papers on the table. She noticed the files first, but there were also photos and building blueprints scattered across the tabletop, as well as an idle laptop.

"Montgomery's files!" she called out, holstering her gun as she stepped over to the table.

Beckett lowered her shoulders as she spun the laptop around, tapping the spacebar to wake the device up from its sleep mode. The screen lit up as Castle slid in alongside her, skimming through the files and photos on the table.

"What have you got there?" he asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

Narrowing her eyes, Beckett examined the screen. It looked like the contacts page from any number of generic email services. "It's a contact list," she told him. She hastily scanned the names, none ringing any bells. "What the hell was he looking for?" Her brow furrowed in frustration at the lack of answers.

Beside her, Castle shuffled through the papers and police reports. Tossing a random file out of the way, he uncovered something underneath. "Not what," he asserted, drawing Beckett's attention. "Who."

"Huh?" Beckett knitted her eyebrows together as she shifted her focus away from the laptop, glancing down to notice what Castle had found buried beneath the stack of files. "Yes… I forgot. Orlando Costas stole Montgomery's wedding album. I remember Evelyn mentioning it."

"They're looking for someone your former captain knew," Castle surmised, shaking his head. "Kate, why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"

"Sorry," she grimaced, chastising herself for not noticing it earlier. "Yes, at the time, I thought it was odd, but I didn't see how it was relevant. It… it just slipped my mind."

Castle nodded. "Don't worry about it," he reassured her with a soft smile as he opened up the book, and flipped through the pages of photos.

Beckett scooted closer to him, their sides pressing together as they both bent over to examine the photo album. It soon became apparent that each photo had been systematically gone through and faces had been crossed out with a black marker. Her pulse quickened as she wondered what possible answers Montgomery's wedding album would yield. Castle turned the page and snapped his fingers, pointing at an empty slot where once there had been a photo.

"Shit."

"Maybe they found him," offered Castle with a shrug.

Beckett inhaled sharply at the implications. She quickly flipped the wedding album shut and picked it up. "We gotta get out of here," she announced, turning around and striding back towards the door. With Kilmer nowhere to be seen, they needed to get CSU down here to give the room a more thorough examination. "Espo, call for back up, we'll set up a—"

Her sentence dropped off as strong hands grabbed her and yanked her around the corner, slamming her into the wall. She gasped out in surprise and pain as she struck the wall at full force, the impact jarring her, befuddling her senses, resulting in her losing hold of the wedding album and her gun. She collapsed, face-first, into the corridor outside the suite. Her weapon clattered across the floor, skidding to a stop against the prone body of the hotel manager, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

Brushing her hair back from her face, Beckett clenched her teeth and torqued her body around, glancing up with wide terrified eyes as she saw the stony face of the man going by the name Cole Maddox. He towered over her, uncaring eyes gazing down at her with detached indifference. There wasn't even the hint of smug triumph she would have expected from anyone else.

Esposito roared, charging through the door, gun held tightly in both hands.

The assassin moved fast. Without any hesitation, no longer considering her as a threat, Kilmer swung around and easily diverted Esposito's aim, disarming him in one single, swift motion. His large hands then seized Esposito around the throat. They scuffled for a moment, eyes locked. Kilmer glowered at Esposito with hard, inhuman eyes. And then he head-butted Esposito once, twice—no—three times, adding in a final strike to the gut with his knee. Beckett was stunned into immobility. She had never seen Esposito disabled so quickly or as efficiently. Her colleague and friend crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Hey!" Castle shouted.

For the first time since his appearance, Kilmer showed a glimmer of emotion. He growled, brow set low with utter loathing. "Castle," his acknowledged, a hint of a sneer in his voice. "Still hanging out with losers, I see."

Beckett groaned, her head dropping back down as she squirmed around on the floor, missing the rest of their exchange. She stretched out, reaching for her gun. Her fingers snagged the butt, crawling at the handle until she had a firm old on the grip. Rotating around, she glimpsed Castle and Kilmer locked in a duel like two prized boxers. However, for the first time since she'd known him, it looked like Castle was barely holding his own in the fight. It startled her to such a degree she froze.

Kilmer jabbed Castle in the solar plexus, knocking him off balance. Castle stumbled back, but did not falter. He stood his ground, and raised his arm to block the next strike, however, in doing so, exposed his side to attack. Kilmer ducked, easily avoiding Castle's swing, and slammed his fist into Castle's ribs. Beckett blinked, horrified at what she was seeing.

Shaking her head, she snapped back into motion, pulling her weapon up, but hesitated, afraid she might accidently hit Castle. It was like witnessing a match between two masters of their craft. She watched as Castle and Kilmer weaved back and forth in a ferocious battle, the latter unfortunately landing more blows than the former. Castle couldn't last much longer. She had to help him.

Resolved to be less useless, Beckett gritted her teeth and summoned up all her rage and anger at what Kilmer had inflicted upon her with a single shot to the chest, and all the struggle and pain she'd had to endure as a result. She'd barely survived. Hell, she shouldn't have. Yet, for some miraculous reason, she had. And now it was time for payback.

Beckett took aim and fired.

And missed.

Kilmer moved at just the right moment, sending her shot ricocheting off the wall. He used it to his advantage. The gunshot distracted Castle just long enough for Kilmer to get the upper hand. He knocked Castle back, and stabbed him in the chest with his elbow as he swung him around, slamming him hard into the doorframe.

"No, Castle!" she cried, watching as Castle slumped limply down to the floor.

Kilmer kicked Castle once more in the side, for good measure, before making a run for it.

"Fuck!" Beckett grunted as she heaved herself up to her feet, grounding her teeth in frustration and rage. She didn't even wait to check on Castle or Esposito, just kicked her legs out and took off after Kilmer.

A righteous fury consumed her as she stormed down the hall, the echo of her boots barely audible over the pounding of her heart. Gasping in a breath, she turned the corner just in time to glimpse Kilmer dashing up the stairs, two at a time. She gritted her teeth and raised her Glock and fired two rounds, missing her target. Growling in exasperation, Beckett pushed forward, pumping her legs as she raced up the stairwell after him.

"Beckett, wait!" Castle groaned, still lying slumped against the wall.

Ignoring him, Beckett bounded up the stairs, one hand skimming along the wooden railing for support as she took each turn without missing a beat. Clenching her teeth, she breathed through her nose, narrowing her focus on the pursuit. Digging her heel into the top landing, she spun around to face an opened metal door. Tensing her muscles, she raised her weapon, and kicked out her leg, banging the door fully open.

Beckett burst out onto the roof of the Rosslyn Hotel, the sun beating down on her with an oppressive heat. The bright light forced her to avert her gaze for a second and reassess her surroundings. Jerking her head to the left, she spotted Kilmer dashing through the understructure of the hotel's rooftop sign. Beckett shouted and chased after him, pushing off from the access door and ducking her head as she maneuvered around the metal beams and supports.

For a brief moment, she had a clear sight of him running across the rooftop, and she paused, raising her gun to take aim. However, Kilmer ducked at the last moment, moving out of range by the time she was ready to fire.

"Dammit, Beckett, we need to do this _together_!" asserted a winded Castle as he caught up with her.

She glanced back at him, frowning as she observed his left arm was limp. Flicking her eyes back up to his, she raised a dubious eyebrow.

"I'm fine," he grimaced. "It's just dislocated. I can handle myself."

He brushed passed her, ignoring her disapproving stare. Growling in dissatisfaction, Beckett trotted forward, nodding her head as Castle gestured around to indicate he was going to flank to the left around the rooftop shed. With his left arm curled into his chest, he raised his right hand, clutching his Sig Sauer, and strolled out of view. Beckett heaved in a quick breath and then darted around the corner, bracing herself for a surprise attack. But Kilmer wasn't there. Gun held high, she glanced around frantically, desperate to find him and make him pay for what he did to her.

All she saw was an open door, another rooftop access. She just had enough time to ponder the possibility he'd fled back inside the building, when she was jumped from behind.

Kilmer wrapped his arms around her torso, locking her arms in place, and using his considerable strength to yank her backwards, slamming her hard against the roof. The impact caused her to lose hold of her gun. The weapon bounced several feet away. Kilmer shoved her aside as he moved for it.

"NO!" she shouted, scrambling herself up with her hands and rotating her body around to climb onto Kilmer's back, locking her arms around his neck.

He straightened up on his knees, growling low in his throat as he brought his hands up to try and pry her arms away from around his neck. Gritting her teeth, she squeezed her arms tighter in the hope she could cut off his supply of oxygen. But her victory was short-lived. She underestimated Kilmer's ingenuity. One of his hands moved up to grab her elbow, and with a violent thrust of his shoulders, he caught her off balance, and managed to throw her off him.

Beckett hit the rooftop hard, causing the air to expel from her lungs. Gasping for oxygen, she rolled around and pushed up on her hands and knees. Spotting her wayward gun, she grabbed it in a last-ditched effort to regain control of the fight. Kilmer was already prepared. Towering over her kneeling form, he swung a leg out, knocking the weapon from her grasp. She watched hopelessly as it clattered away.

At that point, Castle finally appeared from around the other side of he rooftop shed, and fired off a round. Kilmer dodged the bullet, and scrambled for Beckett's gun. She made a move to retrieve it as well, but he kicked her in the side, making her yelp in pain. Her scars pulled and she doubled over in agony, clenching her eyes shut as she rode out the pain.

Kilmer suppressed a grin, and rolled to the right, stretching out his hand and snatching her Glock in a quick motion. He fired twice, both shots narrowly missing Castle. Beckett clutched her hand over her chest, gritting her teeth as she watched through blurred vision as Kilmer surged towards an unsteady Castle. The two grappled for moment, before Castle's Sig Sauer went flying, skidding out of reach and becoming irrelevant to the rest of the battle.

Beckett watched in awe at Castle ability to hold is own against Kilmer with only one working arm. He dodged and blocked strikes, but not enough to maintain equal footing with his former partner. Kilmer spun her Glock around his hand and rammed the butt of the gun into Castle's sternum, knocking the air out of his lumps. Castle stumbled back, and Kilmer pressed with his advantage. He hooked a hand around the back of Castle's neck and then proceeded to pound the gun into Castle's face several times.

"No! Castle!" Beckett cried, watching in horror as the man she loved spat out blood and wobbled slightly as the wind picked up before collapsing to the rooftop, unconscious.

Kilmer chuckled malicious, grinning triumphantly as he turned around and tossed her Glock away as he strolled back to her, ready to finish what he'd started before Castle had interrupted.

Seething, Beckett glared up at Kilmer as the wind whipped her hair wildly around her face. The man towered over her, his face devoid of any emotion. His eyes were hard and cold, but there was a glint of a challenge in them. He was enjoying this. Feeling her chest fill with a righteous rage, Beckett propelled herself up to her feet.

She charged at Kilmer.

He stepped back, easily deflecting her first blow. And then, again, he seemed unaffected by her elbow jab to his sternum. He barely flinched. The only sign that he was affected in any way was a slight grimace on his face. She moved to punch him again, but he stepped back, out of arm's reach. So she kicked her foot up towards his face. It was a glancing blow, only serving to further irritate her adversary.

Continuing on the offensive, Beckett pulled her fist back to strike him in the face, but Kilmer moved fast, jabbing an open palmed strike to her jaw, sending her reeling backwards. His movements were precise and exact, and before Beckett could counter the attack, he had her sprawled out on the rooftop, gasping for air. Beckett twisted around, groaning in pain and exhaustion. She felt like she'd just gone ten rounds with a locomotive, and yet it looked like Kilmer barely broke a sweat, like this was child's play to him.

He loomed over her menacingly, brow set low in a glower. Bending down, he roughly grabbed the collar to her jacket and yanked her back up to her feet. She cried out, helpless to resist as his hands wrap around her throat. He squeezed, and spun her around. She wheezed for each single breath, staring up at him with defeated eyes.

Kilmer gazed back at her with an almost sickening fascination, as if he was getting off on prolonging her suffering. But then the moment was gone. He clenched his jaw, and let go of her throat. She gasped for air, but only had a second to recover before he gripped her shoulders and yanked her forward, propelling her stomach into his raised knee, knocking the air from her lungs. She cried out in pain as he flung her about like a ragdoll. All her years of hand-to-hand combat training was useless. She was just outmatched. There was nothing she could do to resist his strength and combat expertise.

Finished with his delay of control over her, Kilmer tossed her back down to the flat rooftop, adding in one final strike to her back. She coughed and moaned in despair as she thrashed around like a fish flopping around on deck. He circled around her, gazing down at her with a look of mild amusement on his face, watching as she struggled to regain her breath. She barely had enough strength to push herself up to her knees.

Kilmer stood there, unaffected by her suffering. She panted, her shoulders shaking, as she glanced up at him. "Just… just tell me who's behind this," she pleaded.

"You're wasting your time, Detective," Kilmer replied. "You have no idea what you're up against." He glanced over towards the unconscious form of Castle. "Neither does Castle. You're both in way over your heads."

Beckett stared up at him, repulsed by his smug arrogance and indifference. She heaved in a breath, and glared up at him, summoning up the last reserves of her strength. "Neither do you," she growled.

She launched herself up to her feet, spreading her arms wide to grab him. For a brief moment, she thought she'd succeeded in caught him off guard, but then, all too soon, the moment passed. Kilmer grunted with the impact, but remained otherwise unaffected. He simply rotated his body, letting her momentum carry her forward and propel her towards the roof's edge. Beckett screamed out in horror as she tumbled over the ledge, clumsily floundering for a grip.

"Help! Help!" she shouted instinctively, barely holding on as she hung off the side of the building, the street looming far below. Her feet flailed underneath her, searching for purchase, but finding none.

Kilmer approached the edge, gazing down at her with a cool and calculated look. "Actually, we know exactly who we're up against," he taunted her, grinning smugly. He stood there for a long beat, watching her struggle to maintain her grip as if it was the height of entertainment, and then he simply turned and walked away, leaving her dangling off the side of the hotel.

"No, no!" Beckett screamed, working hard to maintain her hold on the ledge, but it was difficult. She was badly bruised and sore from the beating she had just taken. She didn't have much strength left. "Oh, oh God. No! Not like this… not like this!"

With frantic eyes, she searched for something—anything—she could us to help her even out her weight and hoist herself back over the ledge and back onto the roof.

"C'mon, no!"

The exhaustion began to seep in. But she refused to surrender. She couldn't go out like this. This was _not_ her destiny. She fought harder and harder to stay calm against the overwhelming force of gravity. She exhaled shakily, tears leaking down her cheeks as she glanced down, slowly coming to terms with her situation. She was at least ten stories up. And there was nothing she could do to change that.

"Oh… Rick… Rick…"

Beckett closed her eyes and softly sobbed as she remembered how happy she'd been a couple of days ago when she awoke to discover Castle in her shower. The old saying really was true. Her life was flashing before her eyes, and on the whole, Kate was disappointed. This was not how she wanted it to end. For a brief moment, in the dismal existence that had been her life, she had allowed herself to envision a happy future. A life shared with a man she loved, and embracing the surprisingly exhilarating possibilities of eventually building a family with him.

A strong gust of wind flared up around her, making her lose her grip and sway precariously on one hand. The other slid closer to the edge, and her fingers ached with the effort to support her weight. She swallowed thickly and closed her eyes with a heavy heart, ready to accept her fate.

"Beckett!"

Her head jerked up, and her heart was infused with hope in spite of the dire outlook.

"Castle!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Oh thank God he'd regained consciousness.

"Beckett! Where are you?" he sounded far away.

"Castle, I'm here," she yelled, struggling to keep her last remaining hold on the ledge, but she cannot stop the pull of gravity. "No! Oh, God. Castle!"

"Beckett, hang on! I'm coming!"

She was down to just her fingertips. She couldn't hold on for much longer.

"Castle!"

She screamed as her hand slipped free and she was motionless for a split second before she started to fall. But at the last moment, Castle appeared on the ledge, and his hand grabbed hers, stopping her fall. He grunted and he narrowed his eyes, screwing up his face as he summoned up all his strength to keep her suspended there in mid-air.

"Guys! A little help!" he sputtered, blood was still leaking out of the corner of his mouth from his fight with Kilmer.

Ryan's was the next face she saw. He moved up alongside Castle and bent down over the edge, reaching for her. He wrapped both his hands around her arm, and gritted his teeth.

"We gotcha," he assured through the strain.

Two more officers, dressed in tactical gear, appeared, and soon the four men were pulling her back up over the edge. The moment her feet hit the solid surface of the rooftop, Beckett collapsed into Castle. He wrapped her up in an one armed embrace, supporting her weight as she slumped limply into him, all her limbs numb. She buried her face in his chest, and worked at catching her breath.

"Kilmer?" she questioned in between pants for air.

Castle tensed briefly. "He got away."

She nodded absently, sighing out a breath and letting it go. It wasn't worth it. At least not right now. Glancing over Castle's shoulder, her halting breaths ceased temporarily when she caught sight of an extremely angry, yet stoic looking Captain Gates.

"Captain?" she gulped down a breath of air.

"Detective Beckett," Gates inclined her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've got a lot of explaining to do."


	13. Chapter 12

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 12**

He reached up and rubbed his hand over his sore shoulder, gingerly rotating his left arm around in circles. Castle was still kicking himself over how he'd let his emotions distract him at the Rosslyn Hotel. If he had been paying better attention, Kilmer would not have been able to dislocate his arm. It hurt like hell to get it set back in place, but not as much as his bruised ego. Castle had always been lauded as one of the best field operatives, especially when it came to hand-to-hand combat. But Ray Kilmer was something else. He was a beast, brutal and vicious in his attack, and extremely precise and efficient. The man was a machine.

Sighing, Castle carded his fingers through his hair and glanced towards Captain Gates's office. He watched through the glass window while Beckett stood alongside Detective Esposito as they both received a harsh lecture from their commanding officer.

"Withholding evidence, lying to a superior officer!" the captain's voice was so loud, the entire bullpen could hear her tirade through the closed door. "What you did dishonors this city and dishonors the badge. Not only are you off this investigation, I'm putting you both on administrative leave effective immediately."

Cocking his head slightly, Castle caught a glimpse of Ryan slumping down in his chair, dropping his head in his hands, and groaning as they heard that last bit. Pushing off from the edge of Beckett's desk, Castle stepped over towards the other detective.

"I don't think I've thanked you yet," Castle said, approaching the younger man cautiously, not wanting to spook him. "So… thank you."

Ryan looked up with startled eyes. He swallowed, glancing at Castle's proffered hand. It took him a moment to process what had just been said, before he accepted Castle's overture and shook hands. "Um… yeah, you're welcome," he said, sounding somewhat unsure of himself, his feature still marred with an expression of misplaced guilt.

Castle plopped down on the edge of Ryan's desk and stretched his hand out to pat him on the shoulder, adding a reassuring squeeze in an attempt to lighten the man's mood. "I know what you did was difficult, but believe me, you did the right thing," he insisted. "If you hadn't done what you did…" his voice trailed off as he shook his head in dismay as he thought of the possibilities. "Hell, I don't even want to think about what might have been."

Looking back up towards the captain's office, Castle watched as Beckett tried to say something in response to the captain's reprimand, but Gates cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"Don't you sir me!" the captain shouted, and Castle winced on behalf of his girlfriend, thankful he wasn't on the receiving end of the ire of Victoria Gates. "You don't deserve to wear the uniform. Now, hand over your badges and guns."

"Oh God," Ryan gasped, dropping his head into his hands.

Castle squeezed the Ryan's shoulder again, attempting to soothe his misplaced guilt. "Hey, remember what I said," he persisted, wishing there was more he could do or say to convince the younger man. "You did the right thing. Don't worry about Beckett and Esposito. I'm sure they'll understand."

Ryan bobbed his head, heaving in a deep breath. Though he had listened to what Castle had said, he could tell Ryan wasn't entirely convinced his co-workers would see it the same way.

Sighing from the feeling of uselessness, Castle turned his attention back to the captain's office, watching as Esposito's shoulders slumped in defeat and he surrendered up his gun and badge. Beckett however, resistant.

She stood stiff, her back ramrod straight as she removed her department-issued Glock from the holster strapped to her hip with slow and deliberate movements. She hesitated for a moment before dropping it down on the captain's desk. Beckett unclipped her badge from her belt and then paused, staring down at it for the longest moment. Flicking her eyes back up, she glared at Gates, growling something, soft enough that it didn't penetrate the glass window of the office. And then, without further preamble, she tossed her badge, almost unceremoniously, down on the desk. She turned her back on her captain, and angrily shoved the office door open.

Beckett stalked past Castle and Ryan, heading for her desk. Castle exchanged a confused look with the younger man as they watched Beckett pulled a duffel bag out from one of the desk drawers and started packing up the little knickknacks she had decorating her desktop. Esposito stepped out of the office, watching with sad eyes as Beckett picked up the porcelain parade of elephants from her desk and gently placed them inside the bag. With flat lips and a blank expression, Beckett continued with packing up her things.

Esposito let out a low grunt of displeasure and turned towards his desk, reaching for his jacket. Castle kept an eye on Beckett, but tilted his head just enough to watch the tense exchange between the two partners.

"Javi?" Ryan pleaded. "I had to."

Esposito merely scowled in response, before shoving past him and walking away.

Ryan let out a growl of frustration and kicked his chair back into his desk. He dropped his head and racked his fingers through his tangled brown locks. Castle tentatively reached out, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. Ryan jerked in surprise, and glanced up at him with a defeated gaze.

"Just give him time," Castle stated. "He just needs to cool off."

Ryan let out a long sigh and inclined his head, though he looked far from convinced. Castle offered him a reassuring smile, before pushing up from the edge of the desk and glancing back at his girlfriend.

Beckett added a few more items into the bag, before roughly zipping the duffel up. She grabbed her jacket and shrugged it on. Castle cautiously approached her, not wanting to startle her.

"Kate?"

She flinched, and flicked her eyes up to look at him. "Castle… you're still here?"  
"Uh… yeah, where else would I be?" he offered a slight smile, finding her surprise both amusing and disconcerting.

"I… um… I don't know," she answered, bringing a hand up to rub at the tender skin around her neck, an angry bruise already visible along the delicate slope of her throat. "I guess I just assumed…" her voiced trailed off, and she shook her head, averting her eyes as she anxiously chewed on her lower lip. He opened his mouth to fill the silence, but Beckett held up a hand to prevent him from replying. She sighed and gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Rick, but… I think I just need to be alone tonight."

Castle swallowed down his protest, observing the tired smile and the lines of exhaustion around her eyes. He didn't like it, but he would do as she asked. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll spent the night with Mother and Alexis."

She pursed her lips and offered him a grateful smile. "Thank you," she said in a quiet voice, stepping closer and pressing a quick chaste kiss to his lips.

And then she was withdrawing, lifting up her bag and marching towards the elevator. Castle watched her go with a heavy heart, wishing he could do more for her. He sighed, and pulled his gaze away from her retreating form. Turning, he stopped in his tracks, spying Captain Gates staring at him with a suspicious glint in her eyes.

"You lied to me, Agent Castle," she said. "You were here for Detective Beckett, not the case."

Castle offered her a nervous chuckle, and shrugged his shoulders. "You got me, Captain," he answered honestly. "Kate means a lot to me. And in retrospect, keeping our relationship from you probably wasn't the best move."

"You think?" Gates interjected with a severe glower.

"I won't apologize for caring about her, and helping when she asked," Castle continued. "Yes, we're in a relationship, and she'll probably be angry with me for telling you. However, none of this changes the fact that one of this country's most wanted criminals is still at large. And like it or not, you still need my help."

Gates defiantly folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at him as she nodded, grudgingly agreeing with him. "Alright, Agent Castle. But I expect to be kept in the loop from now on, understood?"

"Understood, Captain," he smiled, hoping to charm away her disdain for his presence.

Seemingly satisfied, Gates turned and stalked back into her office, slamming the door shut. He watched as she walked back to her desk and picked up the phone, pounding her finger against the number pad, her brow still set low in a disapproving glower.

Castle smirked and turned back to Ryan, who was still berating himself over what he perceived as a tragic end to his friendship with his partners.

"Ryan," Castle said, snapping the man out of his melancholy. He glanced around the bullpen, before ducking his head down and lowering his voice. "After what happened today, I think it's time I call my superiors and let them know what's going on. Kilmer's a very dangerous individual and I suspect he's here for more than just Beckett."

"Really? Like what?" the detective's brow furrowed in confusion.

"That," Castle gestured towards one of the TV screens hanging up above. Ryan arched his neck up, seeing footage from the Evening News of Senator William Bracken greeting Vice President Russell outside the airport terminal.

"You really think he'd try something?" Ryan questioned, sounding skeptical.

"With Kilmer, anything is possible, yes," Castle asserted. He placed a firm hand on the younger man's shoulder. "But I'll deal with that. There's something else I need you to do."

Ryan pursed his lips and gave a nod of his head, his eyes flashing with determination. "Anything to help."

XXX

He paid the cabbie and climbed out of the back of the taxi, shoving his hands into his pockets as he waited on the sidewalk for the traffic to clear a little before he jogged across the busy street. As twilight descended, New York came alive. Numerous lights and neon signs flickered on, illuminating the city in a bright glow, fighting the darkness. New York City had always been extoled as the city that never slept.

It was one of the things he'd always loved about it.

Tonight was no different. He was looking forward to the evening's entertainment. There was a brunette beauty waiting for him to make his move, and he planned on bringing the heat. Licking his lips in anticipation, he turned down an alley, intent on using it as a shortcut to get to his destination, when suddenly a pair of rough hands came out of nowhere and grabbed him, ramming him up against the building wall.

"Where are you going?" the harsh voice demanded.

He sputtered, heart pounding rapidly with fear against his ribs. "I thought we were done?" he gasped out, startled and terrified.

The Knave chuckled darkly. "Oh, Mr. Kriedt, we were never done."

"Please," Johann Kriedt pleaded. "I did all that you asked. Just let me go."

"I'm afraid I can't do that just yet," his capturer grinned menacingly. "Our assignment isn't complete yet."

Kriedt shuddered in horror, for the first time realizing he had gotten into bed with the wrong people. For an international arms dealer, that was saying something. He'd often had business with disreputable people, but none of them had truly terrified him the way Ray Kilmer and his employer did.

"I didn't sign up for this," Kriedt whimpered, recalling how it had all started off so simple. The Knave, acting as an intermediary for a New York drug kingpin named Vulcan Simmons, had originally contacted Johann Kriedt to set up a weapons shipment to supply the Washington Heights gangs with guns and ammo. Now he had been roped into something for more sinister. It had not taken long for him to deduce that Vulcan Simmons was, himself, a middleman, operating a drug cartel on behalf of someone who held even more power and influence.

"Oh, come now, Johann," Kilmer chuckled. "It's too late to get cold feet. Besides, in a couple of days we're going to help shape the course of history." He released Kriedt, allowing the helpless arms dealer to slump defeatedly against the sidewall of the building. Kriedt gulped down a breath, and anxiously carded his fingers through his sandy brown hair. Kilmer smirked. "But first, we have some unfinished business to clean up."

XXX

Kate closed the door to her apartment, turning the deadbolt and slipping the chain into place. She dropped her duffel bag on the floor and shrugged her jacket off. Letting out a long sigh, she slumped back against the front door and closed her eyes, scrubbing her hands up and down her face. She stretched her back, and grimaced, knowing that she was probably covered in bruises from her fight with Kilmer. Tentatively bringing a hand up, she rubbed at the raw, tender flesh around her throat. Part of her was stunned by the fact she was still alive. The other part had been silently reprimanding herself for letting her emotions get the better of her. Her judgment was always clouded when it came to this case, which was why she'd just spent the last hour and a half holding vigil in front of her mother's grave, trying to reconcile the two opposing forces that gave her life purpose.

She regretted her words to Captain Gates. She hadn't meant half of what she had said, and Kate certainly had not meant to resign. She had been caught up in the moment, and had acted impulsively. Being a cop was what she lived for. It was an integral part of who she was. And she was not ready to give that up. Frustration and anger had gotten the better of her, and she could only hope that the captain would be willing to overlook her hasty decision.

Biting her lower lip, she thought of Castle. He had wanted to come home with her and offer her comfort. And she would have loved the soothing reassurance of his embrace right about now. But she had meant what she'd said earlier at the precinct. She just needed some alone time, so she could process everything that had happened, what they'd seen in Kilmer's hotel suite, as well as her failure on the rooftop to achieve her goal of rev— _justice_.

Kate dropped her head back against the door, letting out a groan.

Justice.

She'd meant _justice_ , not revenge.

Maybe that was why she'd failed. If she hadn't gone in there looking for some payback for being shot and losing her mother when she was nineteen, maybe—just maybe—the outcome would have been different. She knitted her eyebrows together and pinched the bridge of her nose as she drove out that thought. It was futile to consider 'what ifs' and 'might have beens' at this point. The past was the past. She couldn't change that, no matter how much she wished she could.

Kate could only acknowledge her mistakes and learn from them. And by doing so, she would grow stronger. She could no longer allow this case to completely consume her. For the first time in her adult life, she had found something that was just as important to her as getting justice for her mother's death. Rick Castle may have stumbled into her life by pure chance, but his continued presence was by choice—his, as well as hers.

She loved him, deeply, with every fiber in her being, in spite of the brief time that she'd known him. And his love was like a balm to her soul, a beacon of light in a vast sea of darkness, guiding her out of treacherous waters and towards solid ground. He made her happy, happier than she'd been since her mother's death. And that was a good thing. Something worthy of preserving.

However, even recognizing and accepting that, there was still one question remaining: Was that enough?

Pushing off from the door, she sauntered in the living room, gingerly tugging her shirt up and over her head, tossing it over the back of the couch as she made her way to the bathroom. Kate wasn't ready to answer that question. There were still too many differing variables floating around in her head. She brought a hand up to the center of her chest, and gently fingered the puckered skin between her breasts. It had been a year since she'd survived the bullet, yet its affects, both physical and mental, still lingered.

Kate just needed to take her time in making some decisions and not act rashly, like she'd done with Captain Gates. Though, at present, all she really wanted to do was wash this whole day away.

She was a mess. More so now than before. Her emotions were running rampant through her mind, causing her to second guess every decision—professional and personal—she'd ever made. Yet, despite all the doubts, the light of Castle's love still burned strong in her heart. She closed her eyes and sighed, stripping out of her black jeans, wincing slightly as the bruises along her ribs made their presence known.

Kate didn't know what the future held for her anymore than the next person, however, she was certain of one thing. Ignoring everything else—related to her current employment status and her personal crusade to bring those responsible for her mother's death to justice—that could or might happen, she did know, with absolute certainty, that she saw Rick Castle in her future.

And that was something to smile about. It was a future worth embracing. A future her mother would want for her. They hadn't always seen eye to eye, especially during her teenage years, but there were two things Johanna Beckett made absolutely clear:

One—Her mother loved her unconditionally, no matter what. Always.

Two—All Johanna had ever wanted for Kate, was for her to be happy.

And Castle made her happy.

Kate turned the shower faucet and held her hand out underneath the spray of water, testing the temperature.

She might not have believed in soul mates or fate, but Kate did believe that Castle was the love of her life. Since the moment they met, they'd had a connection. It was almost instantaneous. At first, she'd passed if off as simple lust. She'd closed herself off for so long, it had been difficult to admit just how lonely she had become. Yes, she'd had boyfriends and lovers, but Kate had never truly let them in. Not really. She'd always kept one foot firmly out the door.

Yet, when Castle burst into her life, upsetting the applecart, instead of retreating into herself and putting up her defenses, she had thrown the gate wide open. It was terrifying just how easily he'd slipped in, capturing her heart. It had happened so fast. She hadn't really had much time to fully digest everything before it was there… before _he_ was there. Kate now knew that no one could ever measure up compared to Castle and her feelings for him. And now, after everything she'd been through in the last year—especially the last couple of days—Kate Beckett was certain about one thing.

All she wanted was him. Castle. Her ruggedly handsome spy.

A small smile broke out across her face as the realization struck. Some time between hanging on for her life off the side of a building and visiting her mother's grave, her priorities had shifted, for the first time since her mother's death. Though she'd always love her mother, and fight to bring her justice, there was now someone else who was just as important to her, someone she loved deeply, with all of her heart and soul.

Her smile blossomed, taking over her whole face, all teeth and gum, changing her entire demeanor. An invisible weight lifted off her shoulders, and for the first time in a long while, Kate Beckett truly felt free.

XXX

The elevator doors opened, and Castle shuffled out, holding up a hand in front of his mouth to hide a yawn. He rolled his shoulders, and twisted his neck back and forth, trying to work out some of the kinks that had developed after spending the better half of the last hour hunched over Beckett's desk at the 12th precinct, trying to conceal the conversation he was having with NCS Director Samson York. His CIA superior was extremely displeased with his decision not to inform the Agency of Ray Kilmer's whereabouts. Though, York had conceded that even with the advance warning, the rogue agent would probably still have gotten away.

Castle had been forced to reveal Kilmer's link to the unsolved murder of Johanna Beckett, and the related attempted assassination of Detective Beckett. York had not been pleased with this revelation. Castle knew he'd been toeing a fine line with the CIA when it came to his relationship with Kate Beckett, and he was worried this latest incident would be the final straw that broke the camel's back. But thankfully for him, Director York had always been somewhat lenient with him, partly due to the fact he had been the one to recruit Castle into the CIA.

Reaching the front door to his mother's extravagant Soho apartment—in his absence, Martha Rodgers had become a Broadway star—Castle dug inside his pocket for his keys. After the events of last year, his mother had been gracious enough to provide him with his own set of keys. He'd never really utilized them before, seeing how the loft had never really been his home, but it was late, and he didn't want to disturb his mother and daughter.

Unlocking the door, Castle entered quietly, locking the door behind him as he stepped into the living room. He stopped midway to the kitchen when he caught a glimpse of red hair in his peripheral vision. Arching his neck, and raising his eyebrows in surprise, he found his daughter tucked comfortably into the corner of the sofa, head buried in a thick textbook.

He altered directions, and cleared his throat as he approached.

Alexis jerked her head up and smiled warmly upon seeing him.

"Dad!" she enthused, pausing only long enough to mark her place before she put the textbook down and bounded up into his arms.

Castle hugged her tightly, tilting his head and inhaling deeply of her youthful scent. She let out a contented sigh, and burrowed further into his embrace. A soft smile touched his lips. He never would have imagined feeling so happy to be a father. He couldn't quite explain it, but ever since he'd discovered that the CIA asset—codename Mockingbird—had been his daughter, he'd felt a previously unknown missing piece in his life fulfilled, providing an unexpected newfound sense of purpose he hadn't felt since his initial years with the Agency.

Pulling back, she glanced up at him with alarm, noticing the cuts and bruises from his fight with Kilmer. "Oh my God, Dad! What happened to you?"

"I've been helping Kate out with a case," he replied somewhat cautiously. Though he didn't believe in keeping secrets from Alexis, he still wanted to try and shelter her from some of the horrors of the world, despite the fact she'd seen many first hand during her years as a ward of the state. Knitting his eyebrows together, he tried to think of a way to explain it to her. "You know that Kate was shot last year?"

Alexis inclined her head.

"Well, the man who shot her is connected to the current case she's working," Castle elaborated. "We traced him to a hotel in the city, but he managed to get away."

His daughter swallowed thickly, her bright blue eyes gazing at him with a mixture of disbelief and worry. "He must be really good if he could escape from both of you and leave you with these," she said, reaching up to gently run her fingers along one of the bruises forming on his jaw.

Castle tried to hide the grimace, but failed. "Yeah, he's good," he admitted, leaving it at that, not yet willing to tell Alexis everything. "Anyways, where's your grandmother? And what are you doing up so late?" he asked, changing topics as he gently nudged her back, guiding her towards the sofa.

"Grams is out on a date. She said not to wait up," she answered with a shiver, which he mirrored. "And I'm studying."

He smirked. "You… studying!? Ha!" Castle chuckled with a shake of his head as they sat down. "Since when did my genius daughter ever need to study?"

"Since she decided to take up a field other than mathematics," she declared, pursing her lips and rolling her eyes at him. "I could totally breeze through the mathematics program at Columbia. Not to sound immodest, but I probably know more about the Callan-Symanzik equation than any of my professors would."

"That's probably true, yes," Castle bobbed his head, delighted to see his daughter had inherited his sense of humor. He moved a hand up to brush some loose strands of orange hued hair away from her face. "I understand. You needed a challenge."

She ducked her head, almost sheepishly, and nodded in confirmation. "I love math. I always will. But… I'll always associate it with what the CIA made me do. I want to do something meaningful with my life. I want to help people."

"I know you do," Castle reassured, tenderly squeezing her arm in support, so very proud of her selflessness.

Alexis looked back up at him with an eager and excited expression. "I've decided to become a doctor," she announced, her smile brightening up her entire face. "I'm thinking either pediatrics or oncology… maybe both!"

He grinned, pleased with her enthusiasm. "If there's anyone who could find the cure for cancer, it's probably you," he leaned forward to drop a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm proud of you, Alexis. I know the past few years have been difficult, but you've still manage to come out shining."

Alexis blushed modestly, her pale cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. "Must be in my genes," she replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and squeezing tight, before releasing him and cuddling into his side, sighing happily. "I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he replied easily, draping his arm along her shoulders. He leaned back into the cushion, exhaling contentedly.

"How's Kate doing?" Alexis asked after a long comfortable silence.

"Struggling," Castle answered honestly. He didn't want to sugarcoat things for her. She knew enough of the world to know things weren't always sunshine and lollipops. "I would have insisted she stay here with us tonight, but she wanted some time alone."

Alexis nodded understandingly. "I've seen this before, while you were away… on your missions," she told him, her tone indicating she wasn't blaming him for being away, but was merely stating facts. "After a particularly difficult or gruesome case, sometimes she just needs to withdraw, and take some time to process it all. Mostly, she just likes soaking in a warm bath and reading one of your manuscripts. It helps her relax."

"Really? Is that so?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow, intrigued by this development. Castle sometimes forgot that while he was away on assignment, his girlfriend had been spending time with his mother and daughter, becoming part of the family.

Alexis bobbed her head, her eyes bright with mischief. "I agree with her that you should publish the Derrick Storm books," she said. "They're really quite good."

"High praise!" Castle laughed heartily, tugging her closer and playfully ruffling her hair.

Alexis let out a yelp in protest and squirmed in his hold, giggling. After having his fun, he released her back to her studying, and got up to see what he could find in the refrigerator. He hadn't eaten since lunch and he was starving, as evident by his growling stomach. He was halfway through moo shu pork leftovers when a sudden thought came to his mind.

He'd been mentally reviewing the events of the afternoon—a habit he had picked up early in his career as a covert operative. His focus was on their examination of Kilmer's hotel suite, hoping he could discover the rogue assassin's plans. His psychopathic former partner had always had an eye for detail. And during many of their joint operations, Kilmer would always have a backup plan waiting, just in case the original fell through. Castle closed his eyes and mentally envisioned the cluttered kitchen table in the hotel suite, littered with files and stolen documents. That was when he recalled briefly glimpsing building blueprints. As he concentrated on his recollection, Castle soon realized he recognized the layout and design depicted on the blueprints, along with the significance of the black ink marks across a specific section of the diagram.

Castle dropped the carton and chopsticks, and was rushing out of his mother's loft and ignoring Alexis's worried shouts, as soon as he realization struck. He whipped his flip phone out of his pocket and dialed Beckett's number, pleading with her to answer.

"Come on, Beckett. Pick up. Pick up the phone. Dammit. Pick it up!"

XXX

Kate closed her eyes and ducked her head under the hot spray, soaking her hair, letting the water cascade down her back. A soft sigh released from her parted lips as the warm water began to soothe her strained and achy muscles. Pirouetting in place, she brushed her hair away from her face, and reached for the bar of soap. She began to lazily rub the soap over her body, taking her time to lather it up and cleanse her skin of the blood and sweat that had accumulated throughout the day. She lingered on the puckered skin between her breasts, before smoothing the soapsuds down her flat stomach. Bending her back, she ignored the slight twinge from the surgical scar along her side, and ran the bar of soap up and down her long legs.

As she continued to wash herself, her mind wandered. She thought of Castle and how deliciously delightful his shower greeting had been the other morning. Kate sighed and slipped a hand between her legs, wishing she wasn't alone right now. She shouldn't have pushed him away. She could really do with Castle's thorough attentions right about now. The man really did know just how to help her… _relax_.

Just as she turned the shower off, Kate could have sworn she heard the shrill ringtone from her cell. But as the din from the shower ceased, so did the ringing. Pulling the shower curtain back, she arched her neck and glanced out the opened bathroom door toward her living room, where her phone rested, lying askew atop her discarded undergarments. Knitting her eyebrows together, she twisted back around and reached for a towel.

Her cellphone started ringing again once she'd finished wrapping herself up in the towel. Padding out of the bathroom with bare feet, Kate smiled when she recognized Castle's name on the glowing screen.

"Hi, Castle," she answered cheerily, happy that he'd ignored her request to leave her alone for the night and called her.

" _You're not safe_!" Castle shouted frantically, breathing heavily. It sounded like he was running. " _He's always had a backup plan. He's not done. Kate… I think he might've rigged your apartment to—_ "

A loud incessant beeping drowned out the remainder of Castle's sentence. Chest heaving, Kate jerked her head around, trying to stifle the rising tide of panic. And then she spotted it. Tucked behind one of her potted plants was a receiver. A green light was flashing and the beeping was increasing. She gasped in horror. Her heart thudded profoundly against her ribcage as she stood frozen in place, stricken with fear, having unwelcomed flashbacks to a sunny day last May. Then, without warning, an electronically modified voice issued out of a small speaker, taunting her.

" _Goodbye, Kate. Goodbye, Kate_."

She only had seconds to react before her entire apartment exploded in an inferno of fire and death.


	14. Chapter 13

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 13**

Castle ran down the street at a desperate clip, shoving and bumping his way past the other pedestrians, ignoring their irritated shouts. His entire focus was on getting to Kate Beckett before it was too late. He had excellent recall, a very useful talent for a spy, and from what he'd seen at Kilmer's hotel suite, his former partner had intended to plant explosives throughout Kate's apartment. Castle didn't waste a second to think, spurring into action the second he knew the woman he loved was in danger, and likely was unaware of this.

She wasn't answering her phone. His heart clenched with worry after every unanswered ring. He pumped his legs harder, willing himself to go faster.

He jammed his thumb against the redial button on his flip phone, and brought the device back up to his ear as he listened to it ring. "Please, pick up. Pick up," he mumbled as he maneuvered his way across the intersection. He dug his heels into the sidewalk and pivoted to the left, increasing his speed. "Pick up!"

Just as he was about to hang up and try again, she answered, her voice cheery and happy, pleased, oblivious to the threat to her life. " _Hi, Castle_ ," Kate greeted, sounding so much different than she had when she'd stormed out of the precinct earlier that night.

"You're not safe!" he launched in without further preamble, his chest expanded as he heaved in a quick breath, clenching his jaw as he weaved around an elderly couple out for a late evening stroll. "He's always had a backup plan. He's not done. Kate… I think he might've rigged your apartment to explode."

He darted around a corner, and nearly sighed with relief when he saw the shadowed profile of her building. He rushed forward, waiting for her to respond, only to be met with an electronically modified voice, faded and muffled, sounding like it was coming not far from Kate's phone.

" _Goodbye, Kate. Goodbye, Kate_."

"KATE!" Castle screamed, hooking to the right so he could jog across the street towards her apartment complex, when…

 _BOOM!_

The explosion rocked the entire neighborhood. Castle let out a sharp gasp as he was thrown back against the balustrade of a brownstone across the street. He turned his back to the overwhelming heat, and closed his eyes, swearing loudly as he gripped the railing for support as the shockwave from the blast burst forth, knocking over unsuspecting pedestrians. Castle hissed and spun back around. His heart dropped at the sight before him. The crackle and spit of fire merged with the cries and screams of bystanders caught up in the concussive force of the explosion.

Castle stood on the street corner, gaping in horror as he stared up at the flames billowing out of the apartment windows.

 _Kate_.

Her name echoed throughout his mind with a frantic desperation. Not wanting to waste another second with the gathering gawkers, Castle sped across the street, bursting through the front door of the building. He found Mr. Hostetler, the building manager, stumbling out of his apartment, bushy eyebrows raised in alarm.

Grabbing the older man's arm, Castle drew his focus. "Get everyone out of the building," he instructed. "NOW!"

He was already making his way towards the stairs before Mr. Hostetler could even respond. Castle's heart beat profoundly within his chest, his concern for Kate's wellbeing growing exponentially by the second. He climbed the stairs two at a time. The building alarm had sounded, and Castle had to push his way past other tenants as they rushed to make their escape. The faint sounds of the billowing inferno raging in Beckett's apartment were unmistakable at this point. There was another boom from up above and the whole building seemed to quake. People screamed and started to panic.

Castle snatched up a careening toddler, saving the child from tipping down the stairs and being trampled by the stampede of frantic tenants trying to escape from the building. The little girl screamed, loud and earsplitting, her tears running rivers down her flushed cheeks. He clutched her to his chest, trying to soothe her, all the while the rapid thump of his heart skipped erratically at the delay.

He needed to get to Kate. But he couldn't just abandon this child. Need and duty warred inside him as he struggled to calm the wiggling toddler in his arms.

"Annabeth!" a woman in a lavender night robe shouted, the panic of a terrified parent evident in her voice. She skidded around the second floor landing, rushing towards them. "Oh thank God!"

Castle carefully handed the crying toddler over to her mother, who thanked him profusely with watery eyes. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to get going. She glanced back at him with a confused expression as he gripped the railing and leapt up the stairs. He breathed through his nose, gritting his teeth as he ignored the burn in his legs as he vaulted up the remaining steps. Castle let out a frustrated grunt as he shoved his way through the stairwell door and stumbled into the hallway.

Bouncing off the wall, he used the momentum to propel himself towards Kate's apartment. As he got closer, Castle could see the damage the explosion had inflicted on the surrounding building structure. A support beam had punched through the wall and into the corridor, blocking part of his path. He had to squeeze past it to reach Kate's apartment. Debris littered the floor, and smoke filled the air. Castle shielded his mouth with his arm as he approached her front door.

"Kate!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him over the crackle of fire and the creaking of weakening wood. "Are you in there!? KATE!"

There was no response. Either she was unconscious or deeper inside the apartment. With frantic eyes, he examined the locked door, checking for signs of a potential backdraft. Seeing none, he reared back and lowered his shoulder.

With a low grunt, Castle rammed against the front door, knocking it off its weakened hinges. He let out a surprised noise as the door gave way, toppling down with it as it collapsed. Castle fell into the burning foyer of Beckett's apartment, wincing as his knee hit the floorboards hard. The whoosh of heated air made him pause, and he stood there, momentarily dazed and overwhelmed by the fiery tumult surrounding him. The flickering flames illuminated the apartment in a kind of macabre dance of light. As he delved deeper into the apartment, he almost felt like he was Orpheus traveling into the pits of Hades to rescue Eurydice.

Beckett's apartment was a blackened, burning mess. He could barely recognize her eclectic bohemian décor. Her living room had been torn to shreds by the explosion. The couch they had made love on the other night was in shambles. The ceiling fixtures hung precariously, threatening to fall. Her bookshelf had been toppled over in the blast, chard and ruined books were scattered across the floor. Castle wanted to weep at the image, but he couldn't spare a second's thought of dispensable material. Kate Beckett had to be his priority.

"Kate! Kate!" he swiveled his head around, calling her name, desperately searching for any sign of his girlfriend. He held up a hand to shield his face from the flames licking the top of the ceiling. The creak and groan of the overhead beams weren't reassuring. "Kate!"

And then he heard it, just barely, over the din of flickering and snapping flames. A cough. He jerked his head around wildly, frantic to trace it back to its source. When she coughed again, Castle zeroed in on the direction.

Shoving a singed board out of his path, Castle cried out to her, attempting to reassure her that rescue was on its way. The bathroom door had been blown off its hinges, lying askew across the floor. He kicked it out of the way. Blinking his eyes and holding an arm up to shield his face from the crackling flames along the doorsill, Castle plunged into the smoky air.

The bathroom had faired a little better than the living room, though much of it was still in shambles, and the stack of towels in the corner were on fire. The mirror above the sink was cracked and splintered, a sharp piece dangling off the side. Kate coughed again. Castle pulled his gaze away from his distorted reflection, catching sight of her fingers curling around the lip of the tub. He let out a strangled sound of relief, and rushed for her.

"You're alive. Oh thank—and you're naked!"

She gripped the edge of the tub as she attempted to right herself, giving him an eyeful. "Castle," she croaked out, halfway between a sob and a gasp.

"Here, let me help you," he reached down for her.

Kate accepted his proffered hands with a sigh, and he helped her up to her feet. His eyes skimmed over her naked flesh, covered in soot and grime, noting the purplish bruises from her fight with Kilmer, as well as the new cuts and scrapes that had resulted from the recent explosion. Despite her battered appearance, Castle could not deny his girlfriend was a beautiful woman. He couldn't help but admire the view in spite of the circumstances.

"Rick… I need you to focus. It's not like you haven't seen any of it before," she let out a scratchy chuckle, curling her fingers into his biceps for support as she tried to find her balance.

Castle grinned back at her, pleased to see her sense of humor was still intact. He flashed her a suggestive wink and waggled his eyebrows, delighted when she rewarded him with a slightly less than normal roll of her eyes. He gently guided her out of the tub, one leg at a time. She winced when her bare feet made contact with the debris strewn floor.

"Towel?" she questioned, blinking hazily.

"Your towels are on fire," he stated with a slight smirk, trying to instill some humor into the tragic events.

He was rewarded with a tight-lipped smile, before she continued. "Well," she swallowed, her tongue flicking out to wet her dry lips. "What about a bathrobe?"

Castle jerked his chin to his right, and she followed his gaze, seeing the frayed and blackened remains of her robe. "How about my jacket?" he offered.

She gave a slight nod. Kate took a cautious step back, still a bit banged up and dizzy from the force of the explosion. She dropped her hands from his biceps and grasped the side of the tub for support. Castle watched her with concerned eyes as he quickly removed his jacket.

"So," he began as he helped her into the garment. "How'd you end up naked? Not that I'm complaining."

Kate smirked at that, gracing him with a quick flash of her brilliant hazel eyes, before she gingerly rotated her shoulder to slip her arm through the sleeve. "I was in the middle of taking a shower," she explained. "I was able to dive into the tub just as it blew." She let out a shaky breath at the end of her explanation and slumped back against him.

Castle held her gently in his arms, his brow furrowing with worry. "You okay? Can you walk?"

"Ugh," she coughed, but nodded tentatively. "Yeah, I'm… just a little banged up."

"Okay," Castle relented, holding her tight. "Come on. Nice and easy."

"Yeah."

They made it out of the bathroom without trouble, stopping briefly in the doorway as Kate surveyed the ruin of her apartment with mournful eyes. Castle glanced around, following her gaze. He could sympathize. Her entire life… gone, in a matter of moments. Kate's lower lip trembled.

"Gone," she murmured. "It's all gone."

"But you're alive," Castle insisted. "That's what matters."

She swallowed, and he watched the motion of her throat as she did so. She slowly turned her face back to his and offered him a watery smile. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes. That's what matters."

"Here, let me carry you," Castle grunted slightly as he swept his arm under her legs and hauled her up into his arms, ignoring her protestations and objections.

"I can walk," she insisted with gritted teeth, even as she tightened her grip around his neck.

"I know," he asserted, carefully maneuvering his way around the fallen beams and shattered furniture. "I just don't want you to accidently cut your foot."

"Is that so?" Kate huffed, unconvinced, while she rested her head against his shoulder.

He hummed in confirmation, and adjusted his grip on her, as he turned his back to the wall, shielding her from the snapping flames still engulfing her living room. "Just trying to prove chivalry isn't dead."

She let out a little laugh at that, and then coughed, squeezing his neck tighter as her body shook. Castle ducked his head down as he carried her through the threshold and out into the building corridor. He paused then, giving her some time to recover, before he continued.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked, concernedly.

"A little," she acknowledged, and then glanced up at him with a slight bemused expression. "Not nearly as much as you, though."

"Huh?"

"It's killing you, isn't it?"

"What is?" he furrowed his brow in confusion.

Kate offered him a soft smile. "Having to wait this long to tell me how you banged down the door," she supplied, though from the look in her eyes, it was obvious she knew he had been in far dangerous situations than this. Still, that didn't lessen his appreciation for her playful words.

"Pretty heroic of me, wasn't it?" he chuckled, pursing his lips as he adjusted her weight in his arms. "It's good here," he said, gently easing her down to her feet. Kate clutched onto his shoulder and hand, leaning on him for support as they moved down the hall towards the stairwell. "So, should I start from the beginning or what?"

Despite the exhaustion and fatigue surrounding her eyes from her most recent trauma, Kate Beckett smiled up at him and laughed. It was more than Castle could have hoped for.

XXX

Detective Kevin Ryan sat at his desk, leaning his elbow on the surface as he rested his forehead against his knuckles. Agent Castle had asked him to look over the Montgomery's wedding album in hopes he could discover what it was that Maddox had been looking for when he'd had Orlando Costas steal it. Thus far, he hadn't really come up with anything. A lot of the wedding guests had their faces crossed off with a red marker. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Yawning, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He stretched his arms up over his head and twisted his neck around, trying to work out the kinks. Perhaps he should call it a night and go home to Jenny. After the events of the day, and his bad parting with Javier, it might be nice to go home to the comforting and reassuring embrace of his loving wife.

Straightening back up, Ryan reached out and turned the page, figuring it wouldn't hurt to at least finish glancing over the photos in the album before calling it a night. There was a photo missing in one of the slots, and he frowned. He flipped back to the previous page, and nothing was amiss. Ryan hunched forward and narrowed his eyes as he turned to the next page, seeing another collection of photos with faces crossed off… except for one. A distinguished looking man with dark hair stood off to the side of the newlyweds as they cut the cake. Unlike the other guests, his face was circled.

"Son of a—"

Okay, to be honest, Ryan hadn't expected much to come from his assignment, but this was just bizarre. There was something eerily familiar about the face staring back at him from the decades old photo. Leaning back, he arched his neck and glanced across the bullpen at the other white board that stood there. While everything with Beckett was going down, Karpowski's team had caught a case. Squinting his eyes, he could just make out the headshot of the yet unnamed victim.

It was the same man.

He had aged, of course, but it was most definitely him.

Grabbing his desk phone, Ryan pounded in the number for the OCME. It was late at night, so he wasn't surprised when the phone rung for several minutes before it was answered.

"Hi, yeah… this is Detective Kevin Ryan out of the 12th," he spoke hurriedly. "I'm calling on behalf of Detective Karpowski about the recent gunshot victim that arrived this afternoon… yeah, the one with two in the chest and one in the head," he glanced back, trying to read Karpowski's scrawling words. It appeared she had been waiting on the lab to get back on fingerprints to identify the victim. "Um… yeah… We were wondering if fingerprints came back yet? They did! Do you have a name?" He waited for the technician to check the records. "Michael Smith? Yeah… thanks." He hung up and released a long breath. After a long moment, he shook his head. "I've got to call Castle."

XXX

"Yes, sir," he acknowledged with a nod, glancing down at the various folders scattering his desk, one opened to a black and white photo of the late NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery in his dress blues. It was a department headshot, taken for records purposes.

After a quick chat with Castle over the phone earlier that evening, and considering the recent details his friend had revealed to him, he had decided to expand his examination of the Johanna Beckett case to include the late captain. He had just discovered the murdered lawyer had had some off the books meetings with the late NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery. He'd been surprised to find surveillance notes in the CIA dossier on Montgomery indicating the brief meetings between the pair. Apparently, the late captain had been of interest to someone within the Agency. The matter was dropped when Johanna Beckett died, however, according to the notes, the Agency had still kept tabs on Montgomery's dealings over the years, though growing more infrequent as time went by.

"Yes. I understand. I'll confer with Agent Castle as soon as—"

" _No need to continue with the obfuscation, Agent Danberg_ ," interrupted NCS Director Samson York with a gruff, yet bemused voice. "I already know that you and Agent Castle have been in communication."

"I… um… sir—"

" _Relax, son, you're not in any trouble_ ," York assured. He paused, and Danberg heard a sigh. " _Look, Martin, I need you to watch over Rick. He's been different since meeting this Detective Beckett. I need to know his head's still in the game. There's been some chatter about something big going down. Soon. And with Castle's reports on Kilmer's presence in New York, the stakes have just got higher_."

"Does the Agency concur with Agent Castle's assessment on the possibility that Raymond Kilmer is 'The Knave'?" Danberg questioned, interested in the answer. He had to admit, it was plausible, and the timeline did fit. And with the additional information of confirmed sightings of the arms dealer Johann Kriedt—who had strong connections with the Knave—in a local S&M dungeon, the pieces just seemed to fall into place. Both men in the same place, it was too much of a coincidence for even the Agency to ignore.

" _There's still some talk on that_ ," York gave the party line. " _But off the record, I agree with Rick. He may be emotionally compromised right now, but he is still a damn fine agent_."

"That he is," Danberg concurred. He glanced down and checked the time on his wristwatch. It was late. "Should I contact Agent Castle now, or wait until the morning."

" _Now_ ," York commanded. " _With the threat assessments being run here, we need to act fast. The Vice President's going to be in New York tomorrow night and he's refusing to cancel his trip, so we need to ensure his safety. We've looped in the Secret Service and I'll be heading to Washington shortly to brief the President. In the meantime, I need you and Castle to be my eyes and ears on the ground in New York._ "

"I can do that, sir," Danberg said, opening a drawer and retrieving the FBI badge provided to him by the CIA for cover.

"Good," York said. "Keep me informed."

And with that, his superior ended the call. Danberg stood up from his desk, clipping the fake badge to his belt. He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and shrugged it on. Pulling his service weapon out of another drawer, he holstered it, and walked out of his office. Adjusting his tie, Danberg made his way down the corridor, stopping long enough to glance inside the command center, remembering those hectic days last October when he'd worked alongside Agent Sophia Turner, admiring her drive and determination, all the while unaware of her duplicity.

Danberg blinked his eyes, startled when he saw a flurry of activity around one of the computer terminals. Taking out his keycard, he buzzed himself into the command center. He stepped up onto the center platform and stared at the large flat screen hanging in the center of the room displaying an explosion in Tribeca.

Immediately on alert, Agent Danberg turned to find Agent Riley. The younger man was sitting at his station, punching away on the keyboard. He strolled over to him. "What happened?"

"C4 explosive just blew out an apartment on the corner of Varick and Franklin," Riley informed him.

Danberg narrowed his eyes. Those street names sounded familiar. "Varick and Franklin?" he echoed, trying to piece together the connection. It took but a moment for his synapses to spark his recollection. "Beckett!"

"Huh?" a confused Agent Riley glanced up at him with a furrowed brow.

Danberg was already heading for the exit. "Call Agent McCord, have her meet me at the scene."

"McCord? Isn't she working some case for the AG right now?" Riley hollered after him.

"I don't care," Danberg shouted back, pushing the glass door open. "This might involve the case she's working. Call her!"

Riley let out a nervous breath, squaring his shoulders in preparation as he picked up the phone and made the call.


	15. Chapter 14

**Psycho Killer – Chapter** **14**

Special Agent Rachel McCord ducked her head under the yellow tape, nodding her thanks to the uniformed officer who had held it up for her. She strolled down the alley, greeting Agent Hendricks with a stiff nod. The younger agent had been on duty in the war room when the call came in. A homeless vet had stumbled across the remains of a man matching the description of Johann Kriedt. She was still sore over the CIA swooping in and taking her fugitive, and then losing him in a blown operation in Istanbul. Now there was chatter of a possible threat to the Vice President.

"Is it him?" McCord asked, working to suppress a yawn, wishing she'd stopped by the all-night diner across the street from the Federal Building for a cup of coffee before coming out to the crime scene.

Hendricks stood up and shook his head. "No," he answered with a frown. "Close match, though."

McCord arched her neck and stared down at the body of a man with sandy brown hair sprawled out in a heap of trash. "Could've told me that before I drove all the way down here," she snipped back.

Hendricks merely shrugged apologetically. "Hey, I just got here myself." He ran his hand over his head. "Does look like him though."

"Yes, it does," McCord agreed, squinting her eyes in the dim light as she examined the remains more closely. "Double tap to the chest, and then one between the eyes," she noted. "This wasn't just some mugging gone wrong."

"How very observant of you," the medical examiner announced, a surly man with a balding crown. "The body's still warm… wanna wager time of death, too?"

"I'll leave that to the expert," McCord replied snidely, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

"Here's your victim's wallet," the ill-tempered man grumbled, smirking. "Maybe if you open it you can discover his identity?"

Snapping on a pair of gloves offered to her by Hendricks, McCord snatched the wallet from the cantankerous medical examiner's proffered hand, and examined its contents. "Leopold Atkins, Queens," she read the name off the driver's license.

Hendricks stepped up beside her to take a look. "I'll get a team to that address ASAP." He whipped his phone out of his jacket pocket and moved away to make the call.

McCord signaled to a crime scene tech to retrieve the wallet, bag and tag it. She glanced down at the body again, and frowned, pondering the reasons Kriedt and/or his associates would murder a man that looked like him. The CIA hadn't been very forthcoming in information as of late, embarrassed over the botched mission. But McCord was used to working in the dark. It came with the job. Some things were just above her pay grade. And, for the most part, she was okay with that.

A sudden boom echoed through the night air, and McCord immediately went on alert, recognizing the resonance of an explosion. A bomb had just gone off somewhere in the city.

The medical examiner glanced up and glowered disapprovingly. "Great, more work for me," he grumbled, before returning his focus to Leopold Atkins's remains.

Three minutes later, McCord's phone rung. She recognized the number from her dealings with the CIA's covert New York field office. She answered after the third ring.

"This is McCord. Talk to me."

XXX

Kate let out a sigh of relief as the EMT finished wrapping her wrist in gauze. She slipped out of the back of the ambulance, cradling her injured arm to her chest. Her entire body was still sore and ached from the fight with Kilmer up on the hotel rooftop, but now she had to deal with fresh cuts and scrapes received as the result of the explosion that had turned her apartment into ruins. Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Kate glanced up at the smoldering remains of her apartment building as firefighters worked to extinguish the last burning embers.

It had been devastating to see what had become of her home, of the life she'd built for herself, of all the hours spent collecting trinkets and curios to decorate her space, and all the mementos and keepsakes. Gone. All gone. Lost to the madness that was her personal quest for justice. She absently reached for the ring that usually hung around her neck. It wasn't there. She had taken it off before hopping into the shower. She glanced back up at the ruins of her apartment, and swallowed heavily, wondering—and hoping—that some of her things would be salvageable. It made her sad, but in the end, her earlier realization stuck. None of it mattered in the end, because she was alive. Material things could be replaced. People couldn't.

Castle had stayed by her side while her injuries were looked over. He had only ducked out to give her some privacy as she changed into some spare clothes that the EMTs provided her with. Now, standing outside the ambulance, dressed in a NYFD hoodie and sweatpants, Kate clutched her injured arm to her chest, pirouetting in place as she searched for him amongst the flurry of activity. She spotted him standing off to the side, new the crime scene tape that the first responders had put up, talking in quiet hurried words with Ryan. Her fellow detective must have arrived while she'd been in the back of the ambulance, getting her injuries seen to. Judging by his expression, whatever he and Castle were discussing was important, though from this distance she could not tell if it was related to what just happened with her apartment or if it was about Kilmer.

Deciding she didn't want to be left out of the loop—especially if it involved her case, Kate quickly made her way over to them, weaving through a cluster of uniformed officers taking statements from the other tenants from her building. But before she could reach them, a pair of surprisingly strong hands pulled her into a fierce hug. Kate blinked several times in bewilderment before realizing it was her building's elderly super, Ernie Hostetler.

"Thank the heavens you're okay, Kate," the older man said, easing his grip on her when she winced slightly. "Oh, dear… I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to hurt you. I… I'm just so glad you made it out of there."

Kate released a breath, and offered him a polite smile. Mr. Hostetler had always been good to her. He wasn't particular the best super a building could have, but he did his best, and treated everyone fairly, even Mrs. O'Reilly with her wandering hands.

"Ernie, relax, I'm okay," she insisted.

He adjusted his thick black-rimmed glasses. "You sure you're alright, Kate?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she told him. "Just a little banged up." She patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Mr. Hostetler bobbed his head, letting out a sigh of relief. He glanced back at the smoking ruins of their apartment building, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in worry.

"Hey," she said, giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Now, if the insurance company tries giving you a hard time, just send them my way."

That got a smile from the old man. "Will do, Kate."

She smiled back at him. She hadn't bombed the place, but she had been the target, so Kate felt somewhat responsible for the damage incurred because of the explosion and subsequent fire. Kate spied Mrs. O'Reilly approaching through the pack of other tenants, drawing away Mr. Hostetler's attention with her wandering hands. She took advantage of the distraction, and slipped away, heading once again for her colleague and boyfriend.

"Beckett!" Ryan exclaimed the second he saw her, effectively ending his conversation with Castle. He offered her a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks, Ryan," she said, returning the hug and then adding, "And Kevin, thanks for earlier, for watching out for us when we weren't seeing clearly."

"Yeah… um, no problem," he mumbled, glancing down briefly.

Kate smiled softly, placing a hand on his shoulder and offering a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry about Esposito," she told him. "He'll come around eventually."

Ryan inclined his head in acknowledgement, heaving in a quick breath, before glancing hesitantly up at Castle. "Should we tell her?"

Kate flicked her eyes up towards her boyfriend, furrowing her brow in confusion. "Tell me what?"

Castle's jaw tensed for a second, his expression one of reluctance. "I don't know, now might not be the best time—" It only took a minute under her steely gaze for him to buckle, which was sort of amusing, considering he'd undoubtedly faced far worse interrogators than her. Releasing a sigh, her boyfriend caved. "After you left the precinct, I asked Ryan to look into the Montgomery's wedding album—you know… look for oddities, or anything that might stand out."

"And did you find anything?" Kate interjected, glancing towards Ryan expectantly.

"Sort of," he hedged, looking like he was having second thoughts about telling her. "Look, Beckett, maybe Castle's right. We can talk about this later. I mean… your apartment just—"

"No," she cut him off, vehemently, shaking her head. "Now."

"Alright," Ryan rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "If you say so." He paused for a breath, exchanging a quick glance with Castle, who nodded ever so slightly in support. "I found the guy Maddox… er… Kilmer?—was looking for. Well, not exactly found… _actually_. More like remembered."

"Ryan," Kate held up a hand to halt the start of his ramblings. "Take a breath." The younger man blinked his eyes and did as he was told. "Now… do you have a name?"

"Yeah," Ryan bobbed his head. "Michael Smith. But Beckett… he's dead. Karpowski's team caught the case in the afternoon. He was shot three times: Twice in the chest, and once in the head."

"Professional hit," Castle put in.

Kate nodded, inclined to agree with his assessment. "Do you think it was Kilmer?"

"That would be my guess, yes," Castle affirmed.

"So…," Kate started, easily falling back into the comfortable pattern of theorizing, while at the same time blocking out all the chaos around them as police corralled the tenants and looky-loos, and firefighters fought off the last embers of the flames. "Kilmer was looking for someone Captain Montgomery knew. An old friend."

"Had to be, especially if he required the wedding album to find him," Castle jumped in.

"Which Kilmer used to identify him as Michael Smith," Kate said.

"He then locates and probably tortures him."

"And then he doesn't just kill him, he executes him," Kate finished with a frown. "But why?"

"He probably got what he wanted," Ryan spoke up, causing both Kate and Castle to jerk their heads towards him. He raised his eyebrows at the sudden attention, and swallowed nervously. "At least that's my guess."

"No, you're right," Kate carded her fingers through her hair as she let out a frustrated breath. Bits of tiny debris and ash tumbled down, and her frown deepened. She'd need another shower later. Yet, for the moment, at least, her mind was on the case. "But what could that be?"

"Evidence," Castle put forth.

Her eyes snapped up to his, imploring him to continue.

He swallowed and licked his lips, returning her gaze. "If Smith was friends with Montgomery, and Montgomery knew the identity of the man who ordered your mother's death… then—"

"He had it," Kate finished. "Evelyn said something about Montgomery putting a package in the mail the day he died. She had asked him about it. And he'd told her it was for insurance."

Ryan's eyes went wide at the implication. "Didn't Montgomery tell you he'd had a deal to keep you and his family safe?"

Kate nodded, recalling her confrontation with her deceased mentor in the small New Jersey airport hangar before he'd made his stand, sacrificing his life in an attempt to redeem his past mistakes. "Yeah," she answered with a shaky voice, the emotions still far too close to the surface when it came to her deceased captain.

"So that's it," Castle said, so caught up in the tale that he didn't notice her emotional state. "Montgomery gave Smith whatever proof he had to ensure his family's safety once he died." He turned his gaze to Kate, and finally noticed her woeful countenance. "Hey," he reached out and brushed his fingers down her arm. "You okay?"

"Huh?" she snapped out of her harrowing memories. "No. Yeah… I'm fine." Castle flashed her a dubious look, which she ignored, folding her arms across her chest and turning towards Ryan. "Did Karpowski's team have any leads?"

Ryan shook his head in the negative. "They hadn't even identified Smith as their victim," he explained. "I only made the connection because of the wedding album. The moment I recognized his face from the photo they had up on their white board, I called the morgue and asked if they'd made identification yet."

Kate nodded, wrapping her arms tighter around her slender frame. She shivered slightly, only now just remembering all she was wearing were a pair of sweats and a NYFD hoodie. "Hey, Ryan, can I borrow your phone."

"Yeah, sure," he handed over his iPhone.

She smiled appreciatively, and took a step away from her boyfriend and colleague. Kate dialed Lanie's number and hunched up her shoulder when she brought the phone up to her ear.

" _Ryan… do you have any idea what time it is!?"_ came her friend's slightly breathless voice.

Before Kate could respond, she thought she heard the deep grumbling of Spanish curse words in the background, proof that her best friend and her other partner had reconciled, or… at the very least, still hooked up on occasion.

"No, it's Kate," she answered. "I hope I'm not interrupting something?"  
" _No… no, not at all_ ," Lanie's response was far too quick to be true. " _What's up, girl_?"

"Oh, nothing much," Kate replied with a rueful grin. "Just standing out in the street watching my apartment burn down."

XXX

Opening the door, the Knave shoved Johann Kriedt in ahead of him. The arms dealer stumbled forward, grunting out a complaint. Shooting a glare in his direction, Kilmer gestured towards the ugly brown couch. Not needing to be told twice, Kriedt took a set and watched as his 'partner' did a quick reconnoiter of the other rooms in the apartment. Kilmer returned in less than a minute with a neutral expression, parting his jacket to return his pistol to his shoulder holster.

"This place is secure," Kilmer announced, devoid of any emotion. If anything, Kriedt thought the man looked bored.

Sighing, he carded his fingers through his sandy brown hair. "Was it really necessary to kill that man?" he asked, unable to hold back the slight hysteria from his voice.

Kilmer regarded him for a moment, before smirking. "The Feds are looking for you," he stated, as if he was explaining one plus one equals two to a child. "We needed to delay them long enough so we'll have time to get the package into play." He narrowed his eyes as he stared Kriedt down. "Just sit tight, Johann. You still have a part to play." He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and thumbed through his contacts, before then turning his back on Kriedt and making a call.

Slumping back into the somewhat uncomfortable couch cushions, Johann Kriedt took in the abysmal state of their current safe house. Being on both the FBI's and Interpol's most wanted lists, he was used to having to seek refuge in some less than ideal locations to avoid detection, but this was lower than his standards. He glanced back at Kilmer, only hearing snippets of the man's conversation. Kriedt wished he'd never heard the name 'the Knave'. And he wished he had never taken on his current client. But the money had just been too good to pass on.

"The bitch is still alive," Kilmer growled in frustration, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Does this change the plans?" Kriedt inquired, inwardly hoping it did. Though, in its own way, the prospect of being part of shaping history was appealing, he was beginning to have second thoughts. If they succeeded, they'd become the most wanted men in the world, a possibility that did not seem to bother his companion. And Kriedt doubted the fact he was a somewhat reluctant participant would matter much to the authorities.

"No," came Kilmer's answer, firm and with no room for arguments. "It's too late. The plan is already in motion. It can't be stopped now." His scowl deepened. Kilmer was clearly upset over the fact that Detective Beckett was still alive. To tell the Truth, Kriedt was impressed with the woman's resilience. Not for the first time, he wondered why their client had wanted the woman dead.

Still frowning, the assassin moved away into the shabby kitchenette, opening the scuffed white refrigerator. Kriedt arched his neck over the back of the couch, and was surprised to see it was fully stocked. Kilmer removed two bottles of imported beer. He returned to the living room and handed a bottle to Kriedt, who was surprised to see the familiar white and red label of Stiegl, his favorite Austrian beer.

Kilmer smirked at the arms dealer's stunned expression, unscrewing the cap with a strong twist of his wrist. "I thought you would appreciate a taste of home," the man supplied, though his tone was friendly, there was still an undercurrent of malicious intent in his voice.

Johann Kriedt licked his lips and glanced back down at the perfectly chilled beverage in his hand. He had decided long ago that though he could work with the man, he would never fully trust him.

"Drink up," Kilmer said, taking a deep gulp from his own bottle. "Tomorrow the real work begins."

Feeling pressured, and a little bit threatened by the other man's stare, Kriedt worked the cap off and took a tentative sip of his Stiegl. Tasting the familiar flavors swarming across his palate, Kriedt began to relax, if just a little.

XXX

An hour after the flames were extinguished, the fire marshal gave them the okay to return to the smoky remains of her apartment so Kate could assess the damage and see if any personal items had survived. Kneeling in the ash covered ruins of her home, Beckett wanted to weep, but she bit her lower lip and stifled the tears. All around her, crime scene techs with FBI windbreakers were taking pictures and collecting evidence. But she knew they weren't really FBI. About twenty minutes after she'd called Lanie, Agent Martin Danberg showed up with a team. Just like Castle had with Captain Gates, Danberg had identified himself as an FBI Special Agent to the NYPD officer in charge of the scene, even providing credentials to prove it. He brought with him a CIA forensic unit.

As she searched through the wreckage of what had once been her home, Castle and Danberg stayed out in the hallway, briefing the two new arrivals, a woman and a tall black man, both—judging by their suits—were federal agents, but whether from the CIA or a different alphabet agency, Kate couldn't say. She could see Castle through the gaping hole that had once been her front door. His brow was set low in a frown. He did not look happy. As if he could sense her eyes on him, Castle's gaze flirted away from the other agents and locked with hers. He offered her a small reassuring smile before refocusing on the discussion he was having with Danberg and the new arrivals.

Sighing, Kate turned her attention back to the rubble that had once been her living room. She shifted through the charred wood and singed cloth that had once been her sofa. Underneath a cracked piece of wood, she found the ashen remains of one of Castle's manuscripts. She knew which one it was, too. _Heat Wave_. The story she'd inspired. Kate pursed her lips and swallowed heavily, feeling a resurgence in the tears behind her eyelashes. She blinked several times in a mildly successful attempt to hold them back. Carefully brushing through the crumbling paper, Kate found what she was looking for underneath.

She gently plucked the small chain out of the ashes, holding it with reverence in her hand as she lowered the attached ring into her palm. Her mother's ring. Sniffling, Kate wiped at the wetness around her eyes with the back of her hand, before standing and looking around the room.

"Has anyone seen my father's watch?" she asked, proud that there was no waver in her voice.

"It's not in the hall," replied Castle, stepping over the fractured remains of her front door, Danberg and the other agents following behind.

"The damage isn't as bad in your bedroom," Ryan announced, emerging from underneath a cracked beam. "But your clothes do smell like smoke and explosives."

Glancing around, Kate held up her hands and said, "Does anyone know if insurance pays for dry cleaning?" She tried to laugh, hoping to lighten the mood, but failed. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her face fell. She bit her lower lip, trying desperately not to cry in front of everyone. Castle came up behind her and tenderly rubbed soothing patterns up and down her back. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, finding comfort from his unspoken reassurance.

The woman agent was staring down at the ground, frowning. Danberg raised his eyebrow as he looked at her. "What is it, Agent McCord?"

McCord reached inside her jacket and retrieved a pair of gloves. She snapped them on as she knelt down, gently nudging aside some debris. "I've found the blast seat here."

Kate stepped around Castle to crouch down beside McCord, narrowing her eyes as she examined the residue left on the floor. "Well, it had to have been a small device, otherwise I would've seen it."

"The lab will have the breakdown by morning, but that's cyclonite," McCord said, pinching her fingers together and holding up some of the residue for the others to see.

"Cyclonite?" Ryan echoed, brow furrowing.

"C-4," Castle translated.

"Ah."

McCord stood up, pealing off the latex gloves. "Judging by the consistence of the residue, I think it's a safe bet to assume that Johann Kriedt was used to procure the explosives. This kind of C-4 matches his usual tastes in demolitions."

Amazed, Kate raised her eyebrows. "Castle, who is this woman?" she asked.

"Detective Beckett," Danberg spoke before Castle could. "Meet Special Agent Rachel McCord. She's part of a special taskforce run out of the Attorney General's office. I thought it prudent to bring her in on the case, considering her familiarity with Johann Kriedt."

McCord flashed Danberg a tight smile. "What Agent Danberg is trying to say is that my team caught Kriedt before the CIA lost him."

Beside her, Kate heard Castle growl indignantly.

"You weren't there," he hissed, irritated by what the woman's statement had implied.

"No, I wasn't," McCord agreed, offering him an apologetic expression, albeit, a very mild one. She waited a beat, letting tempers settle, before turning on Kate. "So, Detective Beckett, what did you see when you came home?"

"Uh…," Kate exchanged a quick look with Castle before answering. "The doors were locked like I left them, the windows were shut, and… I don't know. Nothing seemed out of place. But I don't know, you know, my mind was elsewhere at the time."

McCord nodded, gazing down contemplatively. She looked back up at Danberg and Castle, ready to say more, but hesitated, glancing cautiously at Beckett. "Is she cleared?"

"Yes," Castle said, ignoring the silent object from his CIA colleague.

"Wait," McCord held up a hand. She gestured between the two of them. "Are you sleeping with her?"

"I… don't see how that's relevant," Castle puffed out.

McCord rolled her eyes, exchanging an exasperated look with her partner. "You've got to be kidding me," she grumbled. She turned to Danberg. "This isn't what I signed up for. Just because she's sleeping with one of yours shouldn't give her preferential treatment."

Kate gritted her teeth and stepped up to Agent McCord, getting in her face. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you've got no idea what's going on," she growled out, letting all the anger and rage accumulated over the last couple of hours bubble to the surface. She wasn't just going to stand there and allow some outsider to judge them simply at a glance. "Yes, Castle and I are in a relationship, but that has nothing to do with the importance of this case. The man who's targeting me—the same man who shot me in the chest last year—is the same man who killed several CIA agents while extracting Johann Kriedt. His name is Raymond Kilmer, also known as 'The Knave'."

McCord couldn't suppress the flash of recognition in her eyes at the mention of that moniker.

"Yeah… I thought that would catch your interest," Kate considered with a slight sarcastic tone.

Castle stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to rein her in. She glared up at him, pursing her lips, still seething from the woman's false assumptions, but backed down, allowing him to take her place.

"Listen to me very carefully, Agent McCord," he spoke in a tight and controlled manner, deadly serious. "This is so much bigger than Johann Kriedt. The man we're dealing with has been classified as a rogue agent. He's the top assassin in the world. And he's a threat, not just to Detective Beckett, but also to the country. This is big stuff we're dealing with, Agent McCord. National Security big. And we can't waste time flapping lips and posturing. What we need to do is take Kilmer down. Now… are you with us?"

Kate stood tall beside Castle, so proud of him. She surreptitiously reached out for his hand, wanting to show her support. He met her halfway. Their palms kissed as she slowly interlaced their fingers, ready to face this woman with a united front.

McCord regarded them for a long beat, before cocking her head to the side and giving a slight nod, her lips tugging up ever so slightly. "While this whole thing you two have got going is a little unorthodox, it seems to be working. So… yes, I'm in."

XXX

While Castle and Beckett filled McCord and her partner, Agent Hendricks, in on the specifics of the case, Danberg stepped out of the ruined apartment, putting some distance between him and them. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and made a call into Langley. An assistant redirected him to the Director's personal cell. As the line connected, Danberg took a deep breath, trying to stifle the rising sense of guilt. He didn't like doing this, but he was under orders.

" _Agent Danberg_ ," came the voice of Assistant Deputy Director Dan Kovaks. " _Do you have anything to report_?"

Danberg sighed deeply, glancing back at his friend, and watched as Castle casually placed an arm around Detective Beckett's shoulder and she leaned into his touch. "I think you're right, sir," he said, as much as it pained him too, but orders where orders, and from what he'd seen so far, it lined up with what Kovaks and others within the Agency believed. "I think Castle's emotionally compromised."


	16. Chapter 15

**Psycho Killer – Chapter** **15**

He gazed down from the seclusion of the upper balcony, watching as volunteers worked feverishly late into the night on the final touches for the political rally that would occur the following day. The bunting needed to be hung, and red, white, and blue balloons needed to be inflated. The intent, from what he could gather, was to eventually form a large arch above the stage with those brightly colored inflatable rubber bags. At present, a large photograph of the senator, reminisce of the one from that famous scene in _Citizen Kane_ , was being hoisted into position behind the podium.

Typically he disliked being so exposed, especially since bombing Beckett's apartment had amped up security, but with his connections, he had acquired credentials from the senator's office that granted him full access. And thanks to Detective Kate Beckett and Agent Rick Castle irritating efforts, the Cole Maddox legend had been burned, so he needed to utilize his other aliases. To everyone here, including the Secret Service agents double-checking their security measures, Ray Kilmer was Conrad Bayes, a high-level aide to Senator William Bracken. And thanks to his contact within the CIA, that alias cleared security checkpoints with flying colors.

Glancing at his wristwatch, Kilmer pursed his lips, and turned away from the sight of red, white, and blue balloons, banners, bunting, and streamers. With Johann Kriedt safely tucked away in a safe house, he was free to tackle the next phase of the plan. Taking the steps two at a time, Kilmer climbed back up the balcony to the last row. There, he slid down the space behind the seats and located subtly concealed door. Using the key his contact within the hotel had provided, he unlocked the door and slipped inside.

He moved quickly in the darkness, efficient and methodical. The passage led to a junction that split off into three separate paths. Kilmer pivoted to the left, and easily found the latter amongst the steam pipes. He climbed up until he reached a crawlspace. Laying flat on his stomach, he slithered along the narrow duct, soon spilling out into a small chamber.

Pursing his lips, Kilmer approached the opposite wall. Wrapping his gloved fingers around a lever, he tugged it down. The metal creak, just a little, and three pairs of slits parted in the vent. Squinting, Kilmer peered out the narrow gaps, getting a good visual on the stage below. He removed a small scope from the inner pocket of his jacket, and lined up the sight, judging the distance. Nodding in approval, he tucked the scope back into his pocket, and closed the vent.

Removing his cellphone, he punched in his client's number.

" _Well_?" came the voice of his employer.

Kilmer parted the vent again and stared through the slits, getting on last look at the stage. "Yes. This will do."

XXX

The elevator doors rattled open to the sub-basement facility. The florescent lights flickered above, providing modest lighting. The concert walls were bare, rebar still visible. NCS Director Sampson York stepped through, moving with certainty down the corridors of the abandoned CIA black site. Power cords ran along the side, loose and tangled with other necessary wires and cables for an operation like this. He turned left and then right, and finally arrived at a steel door that stood partially ajar. Nudging it open, York stepped into the room, lit only by the illumination the vast array of computer monitors and high-resolution video screens mounted on the wall.

Ignoring the young tech of Indian ancestry working at the first computer console, York stalked over to the center command station. The man standing there turned upon his approach, a scowl marring his face.

"What kept you?" he demanded.

"And good evening to you too," York replied bemused smirk. "ADD Kovaks dropped by my office for a surprise visit before I could leave. He all but ordered me to recall Castle. I think it's safe to say Agent Danberg played his part perfectly."

"As I knew he would," the man nodded, carding his fingers through his thick white hair. "I've suspected Kovaks for a long while now. I just didn't have any proof."

"You still don't have proof," York pointed out, slumping down into one of the empty chairs by the computer console with a heavy sigh. He was tired. It was past midnight, and all he wanted to do was go home and sleep, but their operation was at a crucial juncture. And the stakes were higher than ever. He rubbed his hand over his bald crown before taking his glasses off and cleaning the lenses with a thin cloth from his inside jacket pocket. "Rick was adrift for so long, without purpose. But in the past year, especially since he started with this Beckett woman, he's been… I don't know… resurrected, so to speak."

The white haired man nodded. "And it has opened up some new avenues of investigation for us," he noted.

York snorted.

"What?"

"Nothing," York shook his head in dismay, stuffing the cleaning cloth back into his pocket and replacing his glasses. "It's just… aren't you even happy for him? That he's found love. That he's happy."

The man shrugged. "My son's happiness is of no concern to me. The work is the important thing. Him finding love with this NYPD detective is just an… unexpected bonus."

"Sometimes you're really a bastard, you know that?" York grumbled.

The man glanced at him for a long beat, before offering a slight nod. "Yeah, I know."

XXX

She sat on the barstool, head in her hands, her elbows resting on the cold marble surface of the kitchen island countertop. The exhaustion of the long day was just beginning to catch up with her. The debriefing with Agents McCord and Hendricks had taken longer than she would have liked. The day had already been a rough one, including a rooftop fight with a hired killer and then getting suspended by Captain Gates, but having to explain it all over and over again to outsiders was really taxing. All she wanted to do was crawl into her bed and let this day just fade into memory.

But she couldn't.

Because she didn't have a bed anymore.

It was gone.

Like everything else she'd owned.

Sighing, Kate raised her head and rested her chin in her palms as she watched her boyfriend search through the numerous cabinets in his mother's kitchen for the ingredients to make her a cup of hot chocolate, something he insisted would "soothe her soul"—if such a thing were even possible after the day she'd just had. His actions, though, were able to pull a slight smirk from her lips. That didn't surprise her at all. Only Castle could make her smile, if just a little, after everything she'd been through in the last couple of hours. It was self evident in his clumsy and awkward movements that though this was his mother's place, Castle didn't really know his way around the kitchen as he had at her place.

Kate let out a long breath and looked down, her brows knitting together in a mild frown.

 _Her place_.

Gone.

All gone.

It had taken several hours, not to mention shifting through the ash and debris strewn ruins of her apartment, but it was finally starting to sink in. All her possessions were gone. Nothing was left. Not even a place to sleep.

Detective Kate Beckett was homeless.

She pursed her lips and swallowed past the lump in her throat, trying hard to stifle the overwhelming need to sob now that there was a lull in activity and she was given the freedom to fully process everything. Her lower lip trembled with the effort, and she bit down on the tender flesh in an attempt to conceal her threatening breakdown. She was not going to cry. Not now. Not here.

"Ah, here it is," Castle chuckled.

The sound of his voice was enough to snap her out of her melancholic thoughts, providing her with the opportunity to drink in the sight of him stretching up to snatch a container of Ghirardelli Premium Hot Cocoa. She was helpless to prevent her eyes from lazily wandering the length of his body, and appreciating the way his jeans hugged his ass as he stretched up on his toes.

Dropping back down to his feet, Castle spun around and displayed the container for her inspection. "Nothing but the best for my mother," he said with a slight upward quirk of his lips. He busied himself by filling a kettle with milk and placing it on the stove, igniting a burner. "I remember visiting San Francisco as a kid. Her acting company was doing a show at the Orpheum Theatre. In between rehearsals, she'd take me to Ghirardelli Square for the afternoon. We sampled the many varieties of chocolates, and enjoyed the special Ghirardelli blend of hot chocolate while we people watched." He sighed, a wistful look passing over his face.

"A happy memory," Kate concluded, offering him the best smile she could muster.

He returned it, nodding his head in affirmation. "Since then, whenever I'm feeling blue, a cup of hot chocolate always makes me feel better. It…," he trailed off, furrowing his brow contemplatively, "reminded me of home."

Kate nodded thoughtfully, giving him another smile, grateful and appreciative of his sharing. He talked so little about himself, still somewhat guarded with his past, but just like her, he was learning to open up more, and she liked to think that that was because of her.

They stayed in a companionable silence while the milk boiled. When Castle deemed it hot enough, he grabbed them each a large mug. He then deftly mixed in the cocoa powder. Turning his back to her, she noticed him something, but couldn't tell what it was. The end result, however, was two perfect cups of hot chocolate. Kate accepted hers from him with a grateful nod, cradling the hot ceramic in her palms and inhaling deeply of the rich aroma. In spite of her somber mood, it pulled a smile from her lips. Castle stood besides her, head tilted slightly, watching. His expression was transparent, filled with fascination and adoration.

"Thank you, Castle," she answered at length, taking a long gulp of her hot chocolate, relishing the warmth that seeped down her throat and settled in her middle. "This is great… really great."

Castle hummed in agreement, sipping at his hot chocolate. "The secret ingredient is marshmallows and love."

And that did it, that brought out a full fledge smile from her. Castle grinned back, eyes crinkling. She playfully smacked his shoulder with her free hand, before stretching up to meet him in a sweet kiss. Sighing contently as they broke away, Kate smiled again and took a delicate sip of her hot chocolate. It really was good. And he was right. It did make her feel better, gave her that sense of family and home. Castle took another sip, before placing his mug down on the countertop and shifting closer to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and leaned into his side, drawing comfort from his presence. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and murmured soft words of reassurance.

They finished the rest of their hot chocolate in a companionable silence, simply taking comfort from being with one another. It was just the two of them. The loft was quiet, both Martha and Alexis had gone to bed not long after Castle and Beckett had arrived. Both redheads had welcomed her to the loft, embracing her as family. Kate had had to work hard to suppress the emotions such a reception had caused. She cared about Martha and Alexis, and it was evident in their actions that the other women cared about her as well. It had been such a long time since she'd found acceptance and care of familial bonds. It made the pain and anguish of the last couple of hours easier to carry.

As Castle walked around the island counter to deposit their empty mugs in the sink, Kate worked hard at stifling a yawn. It was late, and she was tired, but wasn't necessarily ready for bed. She sighed, and carded her fingers through her disheveled hair, noticing the stray bits of ash and debris stuck in her brunette strands. "I think I need a shower," she asserted in a soft voice, sliding off the barstool. She kept one hand on the counter until her unsteady legs could find their balance.

"Would you like some company?" Castle questioned with a hopeful glimmer in his eye.

"Um… no, not this time," she offered him an apologetic look. "I… just need some time alone. Sorry."

"It's okay," Castle assured her, offering an understanding smile. "I'll do anything you need. Even if that is nothing."

Kate smiled at that, ducking her head down and tucking several strands of hair behind her ear, before stepping around the counter to close the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him, melting into the solid wall of his chest. Closing her eyes, she breathed in his reassuring scent. "Thank you, Rick," she murmured softly, tilting her head up to steal a kiss from his lips. "For everything."

He kissed, soothing her back with one large hand. "I'll be down here when you're done."

She pursed her lips and nodded, slowly slipping out of his grasp and turning away. It wasn't until she was under the hot cascade of water, alone in the solitude of the guest bathroom, that Kate allowed herself to breakdown. The tears started to flow down her cheeks, mingling with the water. She ducked her head down under the showerhead and leaned forward, resting her hands on the cool tiled wall. Kate closed her eyes, and clenched her jaw, breathing through her nose, trying to calm the jackhammering beat of her heart underneath her breast.

Over the din of the spray of water, she heard the bathroom door open. It was him. She knew it was him. Straining her ears, she listened and waited. Her back went ramrod straight when the frosted shower door parted briefly, just enough to allow him admittance. She closed her eyes, keeping her back to him as he slid the glass door close behind him. Holding her breath, she waited. His hand tentatively touched her shoulder, tenderly parting her wet hair to expose her neck. Kate opened her mouth to object to his intrusion, but faltered when she felt his lips brush against the side of her throat.

"Rick… what… what are you doing?" she fumbled out, her brow furrowing in confusion. She had asked to be left alone, and she'd thought he understood. He always understood. Swallowing uncertainly, Kate slowly turned around and tilted her head up to face him.

Castle gazed down at her with a bewildered expression, as if he were amazed she didn't already know the answer to her question. They stared at each other for a long moment, the hot water pelting down on them, until he moved, wrapping his arms around her slick body and tugging her close, enfolding her into his embrace. She couldn't help but melt into his added warmth, seeking solace and comfort from his firm and steady presence. Kate closed her eyes and laid her head against his broad shoulder.

"Kate," he whispered over the spray of the shower. "You don't have to do this alone anymore. I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." He paused for a beat, running his large hands soothingly up and down her bare back as she nuzzled further into his embrace. "So, it's okay. Trust me. It's okay to let go. I'll be here… holding you up. We're in this together. I love you, Kate Beckett. And nothing will ever change that."

"Oh… Oh, Castle," Kate hiccupped, arching her neck to press a kiss to his lips, overwhelmed by his words. "I love you, too. So very much."

Pulling back from their kiss, she heaved in a deep breath and buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, nestling further into his broad frame.

She trusted him. And she believed him.

So there, in his embrace, no longer ashamed or stubbornly proud, she finally let go and cried, allowing herself to be at her most vulnerable, mourning for all that she'd lost. Yet, at the same time, overwhelmingly grateful for all that she still had. Tomorrow would sort itself out later. For now, all she wanted to do was be with the man she loved.


	17. Chapter 16

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 16**

It was still early in the morning when Beckett and Castle made a trip down to the New York OCME. There wasn't much foot traffic, except for a few technicians and interns. Shift change was in an hour, so everyone was gearing up to leave. Kate led the way, pushing through the new rotating glass doors installed in the front of the building, Castle not far behind her. She greeted the clerk at the desk, and nodded to the security officer on duty.

After signing in, they made their way down the hall towards the morgue. She tugged the bright purple overcoat Martha had loaned her tighter against her frame, suppressing the shiver that wanted to run up her spine as the chill hit her as they crossed the threshold. Her nose wrinkled as the overpowering scent of antiseptic and bleach assaulted her olfactory senses. At a quick clip, she stalked down the short hallway until she reached the autopsy lab.

Dr. Lanie Parish was sitting on a stool situated in front of a table adjacent to the autopsy table. She glanced up from what she was examining with a lighted stationary magnifying glass when she heard the door open.

"Oh, sweetie, how're you doing?" Lanie asked, hopping off the stool and offering Kate a quick hug.

Kate ducked her head, briefly resting it on her friend's shoulder as she returned the embrace. "I'm alive," she said softly. "That's what matters."

Lanie hummed in agreement before pulling away to take her in, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the butterfly bandages across her temple and the gauze wrapped around her wrist. "You sure you're okay?"

"Just a little banged up, Lanie, nothing serious," Kate reassured her friend with a faint smile.

"Okay," Lanie relented, though even that was a challenge for her.

She had never been able to shut off her worry and concern as easily as Kate could, and that was one of the reasons Kate loved her. Lanie truly was a great friend to have, and Kate felt a little guilty at how she took advantage of that at various times during their friendship. She wished she could reciprocate all the invaluable support Lanie had given her over the years.

"I'd offer you a place to stay, but since you've got Spy Boy to look after you, I won't," Lanie smirked, turning her gaze to greet Castle with a slight nod of thanks for looking after her friend.

That brought a slight smile to Kate's lips. "Yeah," she nodded, arching her neck to glance back at her boyfriend. "Rick's been great."

Castle smiled back at her, stepping forward to join them, surreptitiously letting one of his hands lightly glide down her back. She had to suppress the instinct to close her eyes and let out a sensuous sigh at his reassuring touch. Biting her lip, she did, however, cant into his side, taking comfort in his solid frame. Lanie noticed the almost imperceptible move and grinned, a pleased expression overtaking her face.

"Ooh, Kate, he's a keeper," Lanie stated.

"You'd get no argument from me," Kate asserted with a beaming smile, tilting more into Castle's side and closing her eyes when he dipped his head down and brushed a quick kiss along the top of her head.

Lanie practically squealed at the public display of affection. It was clear to anyone with eyes—and ears, for that matter—that the medical examiner was overjoyed for her friend's growing romance with the ruggedly handsome man of mystery. Lanie had spent a long time attempting to convince Kate to jump back into the dating pool after the failure that had been her relationship with the Adonis cardiac surgeon Josh Davidson. Neither of them would have expected that her first foray back into the world of dating would have resulted in finding a true life partner.

"I'm assuming this isn't just a friendly visit," Lanie remarked after a handful of minutes filled with nothing but small talk, casting a curious glance between the pair.

"No, it's not," Castle confirmed with a nod.

"And since Captain Gates suspended you yesterday, I take it this is off book," Lanie said, leaning in almost conspiratorially.

"Wow," Kate exclaimed in surprise. "Word travels fast." She tucked some loose strands behind her ear and then scrubbed her hand down her face, a little peeved by just how quickly the news of her suspension had circulated amongst the NYPD and its affiliated city agencies. She sighed. Well, there went her reputation.

"When you pull a stunt like you did, you better believe word travels fast," the medical examiner said with a slight grin, though she recognized Kate's dismay and flashed her a brief sympathetic look.

Kate pursed her lips and cocked her head slightly, already having a rejoinder. "Probably helps that you're also sleeping with Esposito."

Lanie eyes became large saucers, and her expression resembled that of a startled deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

"Oh come on, you two are obvious," Kate shook her head and chuckled lightly, rolling her eyes at her friend's reaction. She gently tapped Castle's chest with the back of her hand. "Even Castle knew it and he's barely been around."

"Yeah, so obvious," he nodded in agreement, though a brief look of hurt flashed across his eyes when he glanced down at Kate.

She grimaced slightly when she realized the other implications of her statement. Perhaps her phrasing could have been better, because, though she missed him terribly when he was away, she didn't want him to feel guilty for doing his job for the U.S. clandestine services. She squeezed his hand, and gave him a quick apologetic look, communicating with her eyes that she hadn't meant to imply any of that. And, as had become custom with them, Castle was able to understand her meaning in that brief glance.

"Okay," Lanie confessed, raising her hands up to bring the teasing to a halt. A delightful grin slowly spread across her face and her dark eyes twinkled with mischief. "He might have mentioned something after I opened the door and before we made it to the bed."

Kate bit her lower lip as she suppressed a laugh. Really!? Who were those two trying to fool? Lanie huffed, feigning indignation at Kate and Castle's bemused expressions. But soon she was joining in and laughing it off as well. After a long moment, Kate sobered and glanced over her friend's shoulder to stare at the shrouded figure on the autopsy table before redirecting her gaze back to her friend. "Is that Michael Smith?"

"Yep," Lanie inclined her head, stepping over to the metal table, and pulling back the sheet to reveal an otherwise healthy male in his late fifties. "Three taps to the chest and two to the head."

Kate frowned. "Wait, Ryan said there was only two to the chest," she interjected.

"An error," Lanie said. "Not mine," she immediately asserted. "But I can see why the other M.E. missed it." She gestured to the bullet wound over the heart. "He was shot twice here. See how the hole is slightly larger than the other one?"

Kate and Castle nodded.

Lanie let out a low hum, clearly impressed. "Yep. Definitely a professional job."

"Last night Ryan said there were signs he'd been tortured before he was killed," Kate said.

Lanie nodded, and then detailed the antemortem injuries. Kate grimaced at some, while Castle remained stone-faced. She had no doubt believing he was well aware of most—if not all—of the techniques Kilmer had employed in his interrogation of Michael Smith. She briefly wondered how many such interrogations Castle had ever been on the receiving end of and/or administered.

"Other than the multiple gunshot wounds and the signs of torture, there really isn't anything else interesting about the body."

Kate's shoulders slumped. That wasn't what she had wanted to hear. Slowly, like the gentle receding of the tide, she felt her hopes of a lead start to dwindle. However, seeing her friend's crestfallen expression, Lanie didn't let her linger for too long before continuing.

"The body isn't interesting," she reiterated. "But the bullets are!" She pointed towards the other table with the stationary magnifying glass where she'd been sitting before Beckett and Castle had arrived. "Check out the markings on the end of the slugs I pulled."

Kate stepped forward and narrowed her eyes as Lanie adjusted the magnifying glass to focus on the bullets spread out on a pale blue paper towel. She could just about make out what appeared to be little impressions on the ends of the five lead slugs.

"Aftermarket factory stamps?" she guessed, raising a confused eyebrow, unsure of what exactly she was supposed to be seeing.

"Nope," Lanie shook her head.

"Those aren't stamps," Castle spoke up, craning his neck over Kate's shoulder to peer down through the magnifying glass. "They're letters. And they look to be hand-etched." Borrowing some tweezers from the plastic tray on the right side of the table, he gently moved the bullets around. "They spell something." He knitted his eyebrows together and shifted them about a little more. "They spell… 'viper'?"

"No," Kate disagreed, slightly bumping heads with Castle. She snatched the tweezers from his hand and began playing around with the bullets. "It can't be that. This is a message from Kilmer. Think… does 'viper' ring a bell?"

Castle's face scrunched up in thought. Taking his lack of an immediate response for a no, Kate continued moving the slugs around, trying to find something that would make sense.

"They might not even spell out an actual word," Lanie offered. "Maybe an acronym or something of that sort."

"True," Kate agreed with a nod, her brow wrinkling as she thought. Ray Kilmer was not stupid. He was a highly trained individual, but from what Castle had told her and from her own experiences, she also knew that he was slightly insane. She would not put it past him to try and gloat or taunt them about something he had either done or was planning to do. And when she factored in his 'The Knave' persona, Kilmer was also a highly sought after assassin.

"V… E…," Kate shifted the slugs around. "V… P…?"

"VP? Like Vice President?" Castle questioned, flicking his eyes up to Kate with a curious expression. "The Vice President is attending some campaign rally this afternoon."

"Yeah, I remember hearing something about that on the radio last night," Lanie nodded. "Rumor has it Senator Bracken is going to endorse Russell's run for President."

Kate listened to them talk as she nudged the bullets around with the tweezers. Going off Lanie's suggestion that they might form an acronym, she continued with the vice president idea. "Hey!" she announced, leaning back and gesturing towards the newly ordered bullet slugs. "Look at this!"

"V… P… E… I… R," Lanie read out the letters in their new arrangement.

"Yes!" Castle said. "God, Kate… why didn't I see it before. It's so obvious! Vice President Edward Ian Russell."

She took a deep breath, and gazed down at the bullets. "If we're right, then Kilmer is telling us his next victim is the Vice President of the United States."

"Shit," Lanie gasped. "That's crazy."

"We could be completely wrong though," Kate cautioned. "For all we know, it was meant to spell out viper." She paused and looked pointedly at her boyfriend. "You sure that 'viper' was never used as some code name for an operation or mission… or even a CIA asset?"

"No, trust me… nothing," Castle shook his head.

"Then it's Vice President Russell, right?" Lanie asked, eyebrows twisted with uncertainty.

"That'd be my best guess," Castle asserted. "I was partnered with Kilmer for almost a year. I honestly wouldn't put it past him to attempt it." He stepped back and pulled out his archaic looking flip phone. "I gotta make a call."

Kate nodded, and watched him make a quick exit, already flipping the phone open and dialing. She stared back down at the slugs, again wondering if their theory that the letters were the initials of the Vice President of the United States, and not—as Castle had originally proclaimed—spelling out the word _viper_ , which very well could be a code name for an operation or person. But when she thought back to Kilmer's arrogance, she had to concede the point that it wouldn't be implausible for the man to put the initials of his next victim as a taunt, challenging her and Castle to stop him.

"What are you thinking, Kate?" Lanie questioned, gazing at her with large eyes.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Kate glanced up from the slugs, gaze thoughtful, her mind working a mile a minute. Though she was still conflicted about her former commanding officer, Captain Montgomery had trained her well.

"Why Vice President Russell?" Kate asked aloud, not exactly speaking to Lanie, but just voicing a question. "Sure, he's the presumptive nominee for his party, but he's just riding on the coat tails of a popular president." She paused, and narrowed her eyes, glaring back down at the etched lettering on the bullets. "Who would gain the most from the Vice President's death?"

XXX

He woke early, rising before the sun. After doing a set of crunches and push-ups, he went out for a quick jog, getting his blood pumping. Today was a big day. An important day. A day that would shape the course of a nation. Everything would change.

Ray Kilmer opened the refrigerator in the safe house and unscrewed the cap on a bottle of water, chugging down nearly half of the cool liquid. Gulping down deep breaths, he wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead. Finishing off the bottle, he tossed it into the wastebasket, and then made his way down the hall to the bedrooms. His cell chimed, and he dug it out of the front pocket of his hoodie.

It was a text from the middleman.

After reading it, he smiled. It was about time.

He stepped into his bedroom and walked over to his duffel bag. Crouching down, he unzipped it and removed his Sig Sauer from beneath the folded black shirts. He screwed on the silencer, and then stood up. Still in his jogging attire, Kilmer made his way to the guest room, where Johann Kriedt was sleeping.

He stood in the doorway for a minute, savoring the moment. As if sensing his presence, the arms dealer slowly stirred into consciousness. He blinked his eyes, and stared up at the imposing figure of Kilmer standing over his bed with a gun in his hand.

Kriedt almost immediately snapped awake. He let out a very unmanly yelp and retreated to the other end of the bed, holding his hands up in a defensive manner. "Please! No… don't… you… you can't," he pleaded. "I've done everything you've asked."

Kilmer smirked, and shook his head. "Cut the babbling, you twit," he said, frowning, now annoyed with the man. "I'm not going to kill you." He stepped back and gestured for him to follow. "I just got confirmation. The money's in the bank. You'll get your cut when you fulfill your part of the bargain."

The arms dealer relaxed, if just a little. He adjusted his disheveled shirt and glared at Kilmer. "This deal is shit."

Kilmer laughed. "Then next time think twice before making a deal with the devil."

"Next time?" Kriedt gulped, eyes going wide in terror.

"The world's a large place, Johann, my friend," Kilmer said. "They're always someone somewhere that someone else wants dead." He paused, taking pleasure in the other man's discomfort. "Alright, enough. Time to get ready. Today's going to be fun!"

XXX

"Senator Bracken said he won't cancel the fundraiser," Agent Hendricks said, slamming his phone down into its cradle. "And apparently the Vice President agrees."

"Damn it!" Kate cursed, stomping her foot and crossing her arms over her chest as she blew out a frustrated breath. After wrapping up with Lanie, they decided to visit the FBI task force operating out of the NYC Federal Building.

"Politicians," Castle offered with a shrug. "Fools, the lot of them."

"Remind me never to go into politics," Kate said with a roll of her eyes.

Castle bobbed his head and grinned, his eyes sparkling. He'd never tell her, but he found her annoyance adorable, especially when it wasn't directed at him. He watched as she started to pace back and forth, no doubt trying to get a handle on her thoughts. He sympathized. This case meant a lot to her. Not only was it tied to her shooting, but also her mother's murder. And Raymond Kilmer was the link. Whoever hired Kilmer to shot Kate had also hired Dick Coonan to kill Johanna Beckett.

"We don't have any hard evidence that any of this is real," Agent McCord said, always the practical one. "I sympathize, Detective. But it's really only a hunch."

Kate growled, and ignored the federal agent's words, continuing her pacing. "We need more then." Halting her pacing, she jerked her head towards her boyfriend. "What did your boss say?"

"York said the Agency had suspicions of activity and had warned Secret Service, but the Vice President wouldn't be deterred."

"Idiot," she growled, turning to stare at the wall of monitors, each displaying a grid of CCTV footage from around New York City. Her eyes narrowed in on a specific section and Castle followed her gaze, seeing she was focusing on the security video around the Windmark Hotel. The crowds were already gathering.

Castle returned his gaze to his distressed girlfriend, trying to find a way to explain the politician's mindset. "He's thinking of his campaign. The rally this afternoon is huge. Bracken's a popular senator. His endorsement would be a big win for the Vice President."

"Doesn't excuse ignorance," Kate clenched her jaw. "We have solid confirmation that Kilmer's in New York. And every federal agency knows the guy is a rogue CIA operative. Why won't they listen to us?"

She was on the verge of a panic attack. He could see it. Gently, Castle put his hands on her arms, and gradually turned her away from the wall of monitors, holding her gaze. Her eyes wavered, but stayed locked on his.

"Breathe, Kate," he whispered. "Breathe."

Kate did as he said, eyes wide. She knitted her eyebrows together as she concentrated, following his instructions. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. It took a minute or so, but soon the wild look of panic faded from her eyes.

McCord stood off to the side, watching the entire exchange with a curious and calculated expression. "You've done all you can, Detective," she said after a beat. "Go home… get some rest. We'll take it from here."

Immediately recognizing McCord's error of word choice, Castle tightened his grip on Kate's arm, but he could barely hold her back as she turned on the federal agent.

"The hell you do!" Kate shouted. "This is my case. No one wants to solve it as bad as I do. Nobody! Oh… and by the way, in case you forgot. My apartment exploded last night. So I don't have a home!" And then she jerked her arm free of his hand and stalked off.

McCord raised a critical eyebrow as she watched Kate open one of the glass doors and exit the command center. She turned to Castle with a curious expression. "She's very determined."

"Oh, you have no idea," Castle let out a light rueful chuckle, before starting off after his girlfriend. He could only wish that Kate's stubbornness didn't get her killed. Sucking in a quick breath, he opened the door and jogged after her. There was no way he was leaving her side now.


	18. Chapter 17

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 17**

Detective Kevin Ryan hung up the phone, a frown marring his usual optimistic and positive countenance. Closing his eyes, he dropped his head forward and rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a long breath. He hadn't really slept much since he got the call about Beckett's apartment exploding. After seeing the lengths Maddox would go to get to her, Ryan couldn't sit on the sidelines and do nothing. Yet, despite his best efforts, that was just what he'd done. Nothing. Over the past few hours, he'd been following leads and making calls, all in a futile effort to make progress on the case.

He felt useless.

His cellphone buzzed on his desktop with a text message from Jenny. His wife was worried about him, rightly so. Picking up his cell, he quickly tapped out a response, promising to come home for lunch. It was a promise he wasn't sure he would be able to keep, especially with everything going on. But he needed to reassure his wife, if only just a little, that things would be alright.

Ryan placed his cell back down on his desk and spun around in his chair to stare at the desk beside him—his partner's desk. He'd tried reaching out to Esposito after the events of last night. He tried calling, but every time he went straight to voicemail. He texted, but got no response. It tore at his insides. He and Esposito hadn't always been so tight, not at first, but over time, they had developed a good working collaboration that had turned into an even better friendship. Even if they never worked together again, Ryan did not want to lose his best friend for doing what he thought was right.

The sharp click of heels pulled him out of his melancholic thoughts. He glanced up, hoping to see Beckett and Castle. But the gait was different—strong and determined, yes—but different. Glancing up, he spotted Captain Gates approaching.

"Detective," she greeted with a nod, stopping beside his desk. "Any progress on the bombing?"

Ryan shook his head. "Forensics just got the evidence," he informed her. "They should be running fingerprints soon. Though I think it's clear who the bomber was."

"This Cole Maddox fellow?" Gates inquired, gesturing to the whiteboard and the grainy screenshot from the church security footage.

"Yes," Ryan affirmed. "Though we're certain that's just an alias. Castle said he's actually—"

"Agent Castle?"

"Er… yes, Agent Castle told us that Maddox is actually Raymond Kilmer, a former CIA agent who went rogue several years ago. And we strongly believe that he's also the notorious fix-it man known as 'The Knave' amongst organized crime," he finished, swallowing nervously at the narrowed gaze from his superior. When Gates simply nodded her head in acceptance of the facts and information, Ryan grew a little bolder. Straightening his back, he stood and stepped up to the whiteboard, tapping his figure against the headshot from the morgue of Michael Smith. "We also believe Mr. Smith was killed by Kilmer."

"Why?"

He looked back at his captain. "At this juncture, it could be anyone's guess," he fudged the truth, hoping his voice didn't betray him.

Captain Gates crossed her arms over her chest, and gave the whiteboard another cursory glance. "Very good, keep me informed, Detective."

"Yeah, Captain, about that…," he called, wincing as he halted her departure.

"Yes, Detective?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"With the incident at the Rosslyn Hotel and Beckett's apartment being bombed, I think it's safe to say this case," he gestured towards the board, "has got a lot more complicated than Orlando Costas's homicide."

"And?"

"I could use a few more investigators," he all but pleaded. The team was down two members, and though Castle could still help out, Ryan knew the spy would more than likely remain by Beckett's side during ordeal.

Gates gave him a sympathetic look. "I can only guess how much solving this case means to you, Detective Ryan," she said. "Even without the FBI taking it over, I probably couldn't spare the personnel even if I wanted to."

"Sir?"

"You can take it up with the Vice President," Gates said, pointing up towards one of the TV sets mounted from the ceiling, showing the newscast coverage of the political rally at the Windmark Hotel and the arrival of the Vice President's motorcade. "I've already lost half my people to his security details and I'm about to lose the rest to traffic control. So for right now, you're on your own. Sorry." She gave his shoulder a sympathetic pat, before heading back to her office.

Ryan's shoulders slumped. He felt his hopes deflate. Beckett hadn't seemed too pleased with the FBI agent-in-charge who was taking over the case, and he knew from past experience just how focused his friend could get. Her and Esposito's failed takedown of Kilmer at the Rosslyn Hotel wasn't the first time she'd gone rogue.

Yes, Kate Beckett was a great cop. And she respected the law she swore to uphold when she accepted the badge, but sometimes protocol and procedure held them back and she wasn't afraid to take that extra step—or risk—to see a case through. Ryan could still vividly recall the time her and Esposito had nearly froze to death in a cargo freezer. It had been a close call. If it hadn't been for her then-boyfriend Josh Davidson failing to get a hold of her so he could tell her he'd decided to delay his Doctors Without Borders trip to Haiti… Ryan shuddered at the memory and what if scenarios that bounced around in his mind. He didn't even want to think of what could have happened.

This time would be different, he decided. He still stood by his decision to inform Captain Gates about Beckett and Esposito's plan to go after Kilmer at the Rosslyn, but now that Beckett's apartment had been targeted, the game had changed.

Ryan spun back around to his desk and grabbed his cellphone. He swiped it open and scrolled through the contacts until he found the number provided to him by the special agent. He pressed dial and held it up to his ear, listening to it ring.

"Hello, yes… this is Detective Kevin Ryan with the NYPD," he greeted when the line connected. "Can I speak with Agent McCord?"

XXX

He watched her pace back and forth in the guest room of his mother's apartment in SoHo. She was close to fuming. Her brow was set low in a deep frown and her eyes glared ahead with an odd sort of mélange of exasperation, anger, and determination. It was sort of beautiful. Frightening, yes… but also strangely beautiful. Then again, Rick Castle found almost anything about Kate Beckett beautiful. She was the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person he had ever met. And he couldn't help but love her for all of those varying traits.

"We gotta do something, Castle," she stated, halting in her pacing to turn and face him, folding her arms across her chest as she let out a breath.

"Agent McCord said they had it under control," he reminded her with a shrug, adjusting his weight in his sitting position on the edge of the bed to relieve the discomfort from some of the minor injures he'd received during their rooftop battle with Kilmer, namely his brushed ribs.

For a brief moment, Castle flashed back to that night in Istanbul, when his then partner had surprised him with a quick strike the solar plexus before going completely berserk and bombarding him with a flurry of punches and kicks. He had barely made it out of that fight alive.

"Not good enough," Kate all but seethed, wringing her hands together in frustration as she resumed her pacing.

It was clear from the start that the detective loathed having little to no control over any given situation. Having lived most of her adult life alone, his girlfriend was very independent, and as a result she was typically used to having a certain level of control over things. But this was different. And from what he could glean about the nature of this particular case, it had held all the power.

"Never is," Castle concurred at length, easing off the edge of the bed. He gently halted her pacing, placing his hands on her shoulders.

Kate sighed, letting out a growl of aggravation as she relaxed the tension in her muscles and slumped into his embrace, resting her head against the top of his chest, her arms lying useless at her sides. Castle wrapped his arms around her and held her close, gently rocking her back and forth in a soothing manner. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head, and murmured reassuring words that even he wasn't sure he believed.

However, despite his doubts, his actions seemed to work in calming his troubled girlfriend.

Leaning her head back, she glanced up at him with a determined expression, eyes alight with a righteous refusal to give up that made him fall in love with her all over again.

"We can't stand by a do nothing, Rick," she asserted.

He inclined his head in agreement. "I never said we should," he reached up and brushed a few stray strands of long hair away from her stunning eyes, tenderly tucking the brunette tresses behind her ear as he absently caressed the cut of her jaw with his thumb. "I'm assuming you have a plan."

Kate pursed her lips and knitted her eyebrows together, her gaze wandering aimlessly for just a moment. "Sort of… yeah," Kate bobbed her head. "It might not work, but… at least we'll be doing something."

"Then that's what we'll do," Castle stated without hesitation, avoiding any signs of equivocation or doubt. "I'm with you, Kate Beckett." He paused, soaking in the glorious image of undying gratitude radiating out of her beautiful eyes. He cupped her cheek in his palm and dipped his head down to slant his lips over hers in a brief kiss. "Always."

XXX

"Who was that?" inquired Agent Hendricks, casting a curious glance towards his partner as she ended the call and casually replaced her cellphone back in her jacket pocket.

"Detective Kevin Ryan," Agent McCord said with a neutral expression as she rejoined him. "He wanted to see if I could have our forensics team speed up their analysis of the evidence collect at Beckett's apartment."

"Did you tell him we already had the results?" Hendricks asked.

She gave her partner a look. "What do you think?"

Not waiting for a response, Agent Rachel McCord walked towards the security checkpoint in the lobby of the Windmark Hotel. She and Hendricks flashed their credentials to the female uniform there and were waved through. McCord led the way as she and her partner proceeded into the ballroom, already filling with supports and donors. McCord scanned the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. But as expected, she saw nothing that warranted the unfounded concerns from Detective Beckett and her CIA boyfriend.

McCord liked Beckett. She'd had a chance to peruse the younger woman's service record last night, and to say she was impressed was an understatement. Kate Beckett had all the makings of a great investigator. She was a little raw on the edges, but with time and training that talent could be honed into something more substantial than what could be harnessed as just a NYPD homicide detective. If she was willing to listen and learn—and dump the boyfriend distraction—Kate Beckett could do great things.

"Agent McCord?"

She turned towards the man asking her name, and smiled politely, reaching forward to shake the his offered hand.

"Kenneth Delano," the man introduced himself with an anxious smile. "Campaign Manager."

McCord could tell the man was under a lot of pressure and from the slight trembling in his fingers had probably consumed too much coffee in the hours previous to their meeting. She really didn't follow politics too much. Her job was secure enough not to worry about the comings and goings in the White House. But she knew that the Vice President, though the presumptive nominee, wasn't exactly as popular as the current holder of the highest office in the land. She also knew that Russell's campaign had a lot riding on this rally, hoping for a public endorsement from a popular Senator from New York.

"Yes," she nodded, showing him her FBI credentials. Hendricks did the same. "We're from the Justice Department—"

"Is this about the 'threat' against Russell," he literally did the air quotes. McCord had to suppress the need to roll her eyes. "Because, believe me, the Vice President receives about half a dozen of those a day… sometimes more." Delano chuckled lightly. "I appreciate the concern, but the Secret Service has already cleared the building and have assured me it's perfectly safe…"

His eyes wandered off, and he held up his hand in a 'one moment' gesture, before he sidestepped around them and hurried over to a well-built man dressed in workman's clothes and carrying a large black toolbox. From this distance McCord couldn't really see the man's face, but if he'd been cleared into the ballroom by Secret Service, she wasn't too worried. She and Hendricks watched as Delano berated the man for taking so long to arrive. After all but shoving the man in the direction of the stairwell, the campaign manager returned, grumbling to himself.

"Sorry about that, but you see what I have to put up with," he huff, grunting in annoyance. "Air conditioning in the balcony section went down earlier this morning." Delano gestured towards the departing workman. "And building maintenance are just now sending a guy to fix it. Unbelievable. I tell you, it's like living in the Dark Ages."

"Indeed," McCord replied with a sardonic undertone that went completely unnoticed by the stressed out campaign manager.

"Anyways, whatever it is, I'm sure it's nothing major," Delano asserted with a slicing gesture of his hand. "If this 'threat' was anywhere close to serious, the Secret Service would've told me."  
"That may be, Mr. Delano," McCord asserted in a professional manner. "But we take every threat, no matter the severity, very seriously."

"Um… right," Delano frowned, looking confused. "Okay… I can see you're not going to back down."

McCord allowed herself a brief smirk. "Quite right, Mr. Delano," she said. "Now, if you'd please direct us to your head of security, we'd like to talk to someone who understands just how serious any threat is."

Delano narrowed his eyes, this time registering the implied insult to his intelligence. McCord had a brief staring contest with the man, before he relented.

"Right," he clapped his hands together, letting out nervous laugh. "That would be Miles Brunt. I… I'll take you too him."

"Please do," McCord exchanged an amused look with Hendricks, before they followed the twitchy campaign manager out of the ballroom.

XXX

Javier Esposito sat in his Jeep in the shadows of a parking garage across the street from an Armed Forces Recruiting Center, waiting for an old favor he'd called in. The last couple of days had been crazy. Part of him wished they'd never picked up the Orlando Costas murder, that none of this would have happened, but he recognized and understood the case's importance to Beckett. He wished things could have turned out differently, that he'd been stronger and quicker, that Kilmer hadn't escaped and been free to plant a bomb in Beckett's apartment. He didn't know what he'd do if something had happened to her.

She was like a sister to him.

 _Familia_.

All three of them were.

Which was why Ryan's betrayal hit him so hard.

The man was like a brother to him. Despite their difference in background and experience, they had formed an unshakable bond; a bond that was now being severely tested by the other man's actions. In his heart, Esposito knew Ryan was only doing what he felt was right. And that if he hadn't done what he'd done, Beckett might not have survived, but it still left a foul aftertaste in his mouth.

It was going to be hard to forgive and forget.

The passenger door opened and he watched his old Army buddy climb into the seat. He closed the door, and the two of them sat in silence for a long handful of minutes, the air thick between them.

"Javi, I know we've been through a lot, but I can't do what you're asking," his old friend said, sincere in his regret.

Esposito took a breath, and placed a hand on the steering wheel, curling his fingers around in it to rein in some of this frustration. "I took a bullet for you, Cass. You forget that?"

Cass shook his head. "I can't tap into the DOD database without authorization. I'll lose everything, man," he breathed out, the conflict written all over his face.

"Only if you get caught," Esposito asserted. "And you won't." He twisted his torso around and reached into the backseat of the jeep, retrieving a mildly inexpensive laptop. "I bought this from a liquidator. Paid cash. Soon as we're done, I'll wipe the drive, ditch the box. It'll never come back to you."

He placed the laptop down between on the center console, and then reached into his inside jacket pocket to produce a photo of Kilmer.

"He's a rogue CIA operative, and with his skill, probably former army. Special Forces Deltas, I don't know." Esposito paused, handing the photo to Cass. "This guy shot a friend of mine. Almost killed her. Then he almost tossed her off a building. And last night he bombed her apartment."

"I heard about that on the news," Cass said, eyes softening sympathetically.

Esposito nodded. "Yeah, trust me, she was lucky to escape alive," he lowered his brow, turning deadly serious. "He's gonna keep coming unless he's stopped. Now Beckett, she's got this guy—calls himself Castle, they're sort of together—well, he says this guy," he pointed at Kilmer's photo, "used to be his partner in the CIA. That he went rogue, tried to kill him. Said his name was Raymond Kilmer."

"And you don't believe him?" Cass questioned, brow furrowing.

"Honestly, bro, I don't know what to believe," Esposito replied with a shrug. "But I'm betting this Kilmer name is also an alias, probably given to him by the CIA. What I need is a proper ID." He gave his friend a long, hard look. "And you need to help me."

XXX

The Windmark Hotel was buzzing with activity and excitement from supporters of both Vice President Russell and Senator William Bracken. Kate Beckett could feel the knot of worry in the pit of her stomach as they walked down the sidewalk towards the front doors of the luxury hotel. It had been easier than she'd expected to convince Castle that they needed to come down to the rally. She couldn't explain it, but ever since they'd found the clue in the bullet slugs pulled from Michael Smith's body, she just had a gut instinct that something big was going to go down, and it had nothing to do with the rumored political endorsement that the local news anchors kept going on and on about.

As they entered the hotel, Beckett discovered that large parts of the lobby, especially the areas near the entrance to the ballroom, were roped off with security checkpoints at various stages. Secret Service and NYPD uniformed officers were manning each post. She stopped in her tracks, causing Castle to bump into her.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Security," she said, gesturing with a tilt of her head towards the line of uniforms and Secret Service agents.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Castle said with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows, fishing out his CIA manufactured FBI badge.

Beckett bit her lower lip and gently shook her head, severely tempted to roll her eyes. But he had a point. His badge was as good as the real thing. With a nod, she consented to his plan, and started walked forward again. As they approached the security checkpoint, Beckett spotted a familiar face along the line—Officer Ann Hastings.

There was a case not far back where Beckett had uncovered the uniform caught up in some masked vigilantism with her comic book writing boyfriend, Paul Whittaker. For a while Hastings had been a suspect, but eventually she—and Whittaker—had been cleared and released. Hastings had to suffer a brief suspension, as well as give up her mask, but it appeared that she was now back on duty.

Sidestepping some political supporters waiting in line, Beckett marched straight to the young officer.

"Hey, Hastings," she greeted with a forced smile, putting on a little act.

"Oh… Hey, Detective Beckett," Hastings beamed in reply, returning the smile—unlike Beckett's hers was genuine. After a beat, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Shouldn't you still be in the hospital or… I don't know, relaxing in some hotel room?" Her eyes glanced towards Castle and then back at Beckett. "Surely they wouldn't put you on this security detail after what happened?"

"Yeah, I know," Beckett let out an exaggerated sigh, really selling it. "But with the recent threats made against the Vice President, the Department needed all hands on deck." She paused and hooked her thumb over her shoulder to indicate Castle. "And Agent Castle and I really need to speak with someone. You think we could jump this line?"

Hastings pursed her lips, clearly hesitant. Her eyes shifted between the pair, and for a long second, Beckett was worried the young officer would deny her request. But then Hastings was nodding and reaching for the velvet rope, unhooking one end from the pole and opening the barrier.

"For you? Of course," she said with a smile.

Beckett bobbed her head, "Thanks." She gestured to Castle, and he followed her as they passed through the security checkpoint. Beckett bit her lower lip, ignoring the smidge of guilt at deceiving the impressible young officer, who Beckett knew also looked up to her as a sort of role model.

Seeming to sense her inner turmoil, Castle reached up and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You did what you had to do," he said in a low voice. "Think of the bigger picture."

"I am," Beckett replied with a stronger voice, steeling herself up for the task at hand. Agent McCord had brushed off her concerns, seeming to imply that the recent traumatic events in her life were either clouding her judgment or making her paranoid. Beckett had been down that rabbit hole before, and she knew from experience that she wasn't paranoid. And furthermore, Castle—a highly trained CIA agent—agreed with her.

"Oh shit," Castle hissed, grabbing her arm roughly, jerking her to a stop.

"Wha—Oh my god, you've got to be kidding me!?" Beckett groaned when she spotted the aforementioned Agent McCord and her partner, Agent Hendricks, emerging from the ballroom entrance. "We need to move—"

"Too late," Castle said. "She's seen us."

"Damn it," Beckett cursed under her breath, then quickly worked to school her features before McCord and Hendricks approached them.

"Fancy seeing you here, Agent McCord," Castle said with a smirk. "Took our warning seriously, did you?"

McCord glanced at Castle with an unamused expression before responding. "You know the drill, Agent Castle," she said, voice clipped and professional. "We take every threat seriously, no matter the source."

"And what might you be implying by that?" Beckett spoke up, not at all bothering to hide her offense to the remark.

McCord smirked, genuinely amused now. "You mean he didn't tell you?" she question, nodding towards Castle.

Beckett's brow furrowed in confusion, flicking her eyes over to her boyfriend, who wore a slightly guilty expression. "Tell me what?"  
"That he's on leave, pending a formal review," McCord said, seemingly happy to reveal this news to an uninformed Beckett.

She sucked in a sharp breath and stared up at Castle in shock. How could he not tell her? She'd known he was on leave, but he hadn't told her anything about the official review.

Castle raised his hand in a dismissive manner. "It's nothing to worry about," he said. "Just some internal politics within the Agency."

"Oh," McCord interjected with a raised eyebrow. "That's not how Agent Danberg put it."

He cut her a withering stare, as did Beckett, wondering just how far Agent Danberg was going with this ridiculous scheme Castle's superior, NCS Director Samson York, had put in play. She narrowed her eyes at the Justice Department agent, ready and willing to give her a piece of her mind, but then she caught the flash of blondish brown hair in her periphery. Her eyes followed the mark, and her heart quickened at what she saw.

Disregarding everything else, she rounded around Agent McCord and rushed forward, pumping her legs harder than she probably should considering her injuries. Castle shouted after her, as did McCord, but she ignored them. Instead, she ripped right passed two oblivious campaign supporters and tackled the man who had just excused himself between the pair on his way into the ballroom.

"Kate!" Castle ran after her.

"You've got some explaining to do, Detective Beckett," frowned McCord, but her expression changed the moment they reached the detective as she struggled with the man on the floor.

Planting a knee on his lower back as she wrenched his arms behind his back, Beckett growled, "Go ahead, try it… I need the practice."

The man instantly slumped in defeat. Beckett glanced up at the two dumbstruck agents and her impressed boyfriend. She held up her hand and snapped her fingers impatiently. Agent Hendricks broke out of his daze first, and unclipped a pair of handcuffs from his belt, handing them over to Beckett, who proceeded to lock them around the wrists of Johann Kriedt, fugitive and internationally wanted weapons dealer.

After securing the fiend, Beckett stood up and yanked him to his feet. Kriedt whimpered and dropped his head, letting out a groan as he shifted his shoulder.

"Jesus, woman! I think you dislocated my shoulder!"

"Oh sorry, I thought you liked it _rough_!" she snarled, jerking his arms back even harder. He cried out, begging for mercy. "Shut it. I'll do a lot more than that if you don't tell me what you're doing here." She started to tug him away from the gathering gawkers. There was no need to make a show.

Secret Service agents came rushing over, guns drawn. Agent McCord removed her badge and identified herself, her partner, and Castle as federal agents, apprehending a fugitive with the assistance of Detective Beckett. When the chaos subsided, they whisked Kriedt off into a room behind the hotel's front desk, a detachment of Secret Service agents accompanying them.

"What's the plan, Kriedt? Did you really think you could just walk in there without anyone noticing?" Beckett questioned, starting her interrogation. "What's Kilmer up to?"

Kriedt winced and groaned, crying out in pain as Castle snapped the man's shoulder back into place. "It's too late," he coughed, shaking his head. "You can't stop him."

McCord glanced to her partner, and he nodded. Hendricks borrowed a radio from one of the Secret Service agents and was calling it in. Beckett almost laughed. Now they believed them. Castle placed a hand on Kriedt's relocated shoulder and squeezed, tight, making the man squirm with discomfort.

"Tell us what you know," he all but growled. "Now."

Kriedt swallowed nervously and simply continued to shake his head. "I told you, it's too late. You can't stop it. No matter what you do, it's going to happen."

"What?" McCord interjected, crossing her arms as she stood beside Beckett. "What's going to happen?"

"Ah, shit… he… he's gonna kill…," his words trailed off as he started to whimper again, mumbling incoherently. Beckett started to ponder switching interrogating techniques. The man was obviously terrified of Ray Kilmer. She didn't blame him. Kilmer was the devil in carnet.

"Kill? Who?" McCord pressed.

Kriedt moaned, head lolling forward. "Either the Vice President or the Senator. I don't know… maybe both."

"Believe me now?" Beckett demanded of Agent McCord.

The Justice Department agent let out a shaky breath, and bobbed her head.

"Good, now… we have to stop it from happening," Beckett insisted. McCord nodded in agreement. She turned to the Secret Service agent, but the man was already radioing it in.

But it was just as Johann Kriedt said. It was too late.

Twenty seconds later, they heard the gunfire.


	19. Chapter 18

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 18**

He worked hard at suppressing the pleased grin as he watched the imbecile of a campaign manager walk back to the two oblivious Federal agents from the Justice Department. Apparently none of the agencies were taking the assassination chatter all too seriously. His contact within the CIA informed him that though NCS Director Samson York believed the report Agent Castle had sent, the higher echelons of the CIA, including the Director himself, were dubious as to the authenticity of the findings. Agent Castle's reliability was being called into question, with Assistant Deputy Director Dan Kovaks asserting that Richard Castle was emotional compromised due to his relationship with Detective Kate Beckett.

All of which resulted in the two dimwitted Federal agents from the Attorney General's ridiculous special task force not taking Castle and Beckett's warning seriously—that left him free to go about his business uninterrupted and without worry.

Ray Kilmer scanned the packed ballroom with a meticulous gaze. From what he'd seen during his initial reconnoiter of the place, it was clear that the tireless volunteers had worked through the night to get the place ready. Red, white, and blue bunting boarded the stage, as well as the large photo of the smiling senator behind the podium. The patriots colored balloons had been strung together and now formed a large arch covering one end of the stage to the other. Everything was prime and ready for all the pomp and grandeur of a high profile political rally.

He pursed his lips in a flat smile. This event would definitely be one for the record books, but not for the reasons many of the assembling guests and newscasters believed. Today would be the day that an esteemed political career came to an end, while at the same time skyrocketing another into the stratosphere and the heights of ultimate power. Ray Kilmer knew a winning horse when he saw one. And he was willing to double down on this one.

Briefly glancing at his wristwatch, Kilmer picked up the pace, sidestepping around supporters and donors. He walked purposefully, keeping his pace even and casual, like he belonged. He followed a pair of party officials up the staircase to the balcony, listening with amusement as the two gossiped with high anticipation on the day's rumored announcement. Many were expecting a high profile endorsement for the Vice President. Kilmer knew the truth of the matter, but he kept his mouth shut.

Reaching the balcony, Kilmer checked his watch again. Johann Kriedt should be arriving at any moment, and would be fulfilling his obligation as the role of scapegoat and distraction. He paused momentarily, allowing a few seconds to concern himself with Kriedt's ability to play his part. But the moment was fleeting. Kriedt knew what was at state, and he was promised a handsome reward for the inconveniences his part in the plan would cause. Kilmer walked along the back wall of the balcony, and easily located the concealed door. Using the key, he unlocked the door and slipped inside.

He moved without haste through the narrow conduits and air ducts, soon arriving in the small chamber with the vent that provided him with the perfect angle and view of the raised staged. Kilmer placed the toolbox down on the flat surface of the ventilation equipment, and snapped open the locks. Popping the lid, he removed the items from within. He worked meticulously, putting the items together in the proper sequence, ignoring the buzz of his cellphone vibrating, alerting him to a new text message.

When he'd finished assembling his instrument, Kilmer removed his phone from his side pocket and read the message. He frowned in annoyance. Detective Beckett and Agent Castle had been spotted in the hotel lobby. He swiped open his contacts, and sent a message to Kriedt's burner cell, giving the arms dealer the green light.

From the ballroom beyond the small chamber he could hear the stirrings of excitement as the VIPs arrived with their entourages. Kilmer pocketed his cell and picked up his custom sniper rifle. He moved to the opposite wall and wrapped his gloved fingers around the lever, tugging it down. The metal creaked, just a little, and the three pairs of slits parted in the vent opening.

Kilmer narrowed his eyes as he peered out through the gaps, getting a good visual on the stage below. The senator was on stage with the Vice President. The two were smiling for the cameras as they shook hands. Lights flashed as the press surged in near the edge of the stage, snapping photos of the two. Kilmer saw his opportunity. He checked his watch one last time before hefting the sniper rifle up and angling the barrel through one of the slits in the vent opening. He adjusted the scope and range, and took aim. He paused for just a second, releasing a small breath.

And then he opened fire.

XXX

The Secret Service agents rushed out of the room in the blink of an eye, unholstering their weapons as they burst through the door and back out into the lobby. Beckett followed them without hesitation, Castle hot on her tail, leaving Agents McCord and Hendricks to deal with Johann Kriedt. Beckett could feel her heart rate tick up as her legs pumped as she quickened her pace to keep up with the Secret Service agents. She ignored the pull and strain from the injuries she'd sustained the previous night, and focused all her energy and attention on maintaining her pace with the Secret Service agents.

The lobby was already in chaos. People were screaming and running about in terror. Another burst of gunfire sounded, and the scene only grew more intense as people started panicking even more than they already were. The Secret Service agents had to shove aside some of the frightened rally supporters in order to make a pathway through the crowd. Beckett followed right behind them in their wake, Castle right on her heels.

They came to a halt at the entrance to the ballroom. Beckett's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. She watched with wide eyes as the Secret Service agents tried to maneuver their way through the sea of hysteria that engulfed the ballroom. Castle put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched, not expected the sudden touch. She glanced at him with frantic eyes.

"Castle?"

"Here… you might need this," he said, removing his spare Sig Sauer from his double shoulder holster.

"Thanks," she accepted with a small smile, curling her fingers around the gun handle. Her chest unclenched and she let out a breath. Dropping her head momentarily, she looked down at the gun in her had. The weight of the weapon felt right, like it belonged there.

Suddenly Castle was wrapping one arm around her waist and hoisting her back against his chest, spinning them away from the ballroom entrance. She yelped in surprise, but then bit her lower lip as she noticed the wave of panicked supporters and political donors rushing towards them. It was like a runaway stampede. She flinched back against Castle and she cringed when the surgical scar along her side pulled painfully. Her breath caught and her chest tightened as she hung on the cusp of a PTSD induced panic attack.

Castle's voice was warm in her ear, whispering soothing words to calm her. His large hand sprawled wide protectively across her stomach. And his calm and loving voice did the trick. Steadying her breathing, Beckett placed her free hand over his, reassuring him that she was all right, and also thanking him for being her solid ground, anchoring her to reality.

Craning her neck, Beckett glanced over the mass of bobbing heads, stepping aside as the crowd rushed out of the ballroom. The gunfire had ceased, and the staged had already been mostly cleared. Beckett couldn't see Senator Bracken or the Vice President. The Secret Service agents had probably already whisked the pair out of the building and were most likely transporting them to a secured location offsite.

"I've gotta call this in," Beckett said, ignoring for the moment that she had been suspended and had sort of resigned. Tucking the Sig Sauer into her waistband, she then removed her cellphone from her side pocket, and slid her thumb across the screen, opening up her contacts and calling Ryan. She held the phone up to her ear and listened to it ring.

" _Ryan_ ," came his hurried voice when he answered the phone.

"Hi, it's Beckett… I'm at the Windmark with Cas—"

" _Oh! Are you two okay?_ " he interrupted, voice thick with worry.

"Yes, we're okay," she said, flicking her eyes over to Castle. He was craning his neck in an attempt to see past the panic crowd. Beckett ducked her head down and placed a hand over her other ear to block out the ambient noise. "So I take it you know about what just happened."

" _Yeah, yeah_ ," Ryan answered. It was clear from the sound of his voice that he almost couldn't believe what just happened. " _It's all over the news, they're saying the Vice President was—wait…_ _what are you doing at the Windmark?_ "

"Um…," she glanced around as she thought of a reply. "I… don't think that really matters right now."

" _No, I guess not_ ," Ryan concurred distractedly. " _Look, Gates is rounding up the troops for a briefing_."

"Then I'll let you go," Beckett replied. "But first, just thought you should know we found Johann Kriedt on site. And he copped to working with Kilmer in setting up this shooting _._ "

" _Ah damn… so it… it was Kilmer?_ " Ryan asked.

Beckett bobbed her head, and then remembered he couldn't see her. "Yes, we're sure of—" her voice trailed off as she spotted a tall well-built man, dressed a in dark clothes and a baseball cap weave his way through the crowd, heading in the direction of the emergency exit along the opposite side of the ballroom.

" _Beckett?_ "

"It's him," she gasped.

" _What? Who!?_ " Ryan questioned, alarmed and confused.

"Kilmer," she replied after she remembered she was still on the phone. "He's attempting to duck out of the ballroom. I… I gotta go." She hung up before Ryan could say anything in response. Pocketing her cell, Beckett dashed back to join Castle. She touched his forearm to gain his attention. "I just saw Kilmer duck out the emergency exit… over there."

Castle arched his neck to glance in that direction she'd pointed. "Shit," he gritted his teeth. "We need to tell the Secret—"

"No time… besides, I spotted him while I was on the phone with Ryan," she said, knowing her colleague would make the appropriate calls.

"Okay," Castle inclined his head, hefting his gun up. "I'll go after him." She opened her mouth to object, but her boyfriend held up his free hand. He smirked. "You go out the front, try and cut him off."

Satisfied, she nodded.

Castle inclined his head and turned to leave, but she placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back and halting his pursuit for just a second.

"Kate?"

"Castle…," she started, but then fumbled, at a loss for words. She shook her head, and knitting her eyebrows together, before she looked him in the eye, letting him see right through to her very core. "Rick, just be safe, okay?"

"I will," he smiled back, completely understanding what she was really trying to say. "You, too."

And then he was off.

Beckett breathed in deeply, and watched him disappear into the mass of campaign supporters trying to flee the ballroom. But only for a moment. She pursed her lips, drawing upon her waning energy to fuel her resolve to catch the son of a bitch before he could escape. Turning in place, Beckett pushed her way back through the lobby, hurriedly apologizing to those she had to shove out of her way. She gritted her teeth, and ignored the twinge along her side when she had to twist her torso to squeeze through the tightly pack throng of terrified people.

Chest heaving, she gasped for air when she burst out onto the front street, the panicked people fanning out on either side of her, directed by uniformed officers. Beckett turned her head, and looked around for any signs of Kilmer, heart thumping wildly inside her chest. It was difficult to see anything in the mass of bodies running out from the building. This man had nearly killed her—not just once, but on three separate instances—and now he'd taken a shot at two prominent government officials. Whatever it was that he was in… it was huge. She pirouetted in place and glanced back up at the hotel marquee, before letting her gaze settle back along the sidewalk.

And that's when she saw him, just stepping out of a staff only door at the end of the block.

He saw her, too.

Their gazes locked, and for just a moment, time seemed to stand still. Kilmer stood there, his expression halfway between surprised and impressed. Beckett had to suppress the shudder that wanted to run down her spine from the cold eyes that stared back at her.

And then time resumed.

Beckett quickly raised the Sig Sauer and aimed at him, shouting, "NYPD! On the ground, now!"

The crowd around them screamed, and started to panic, moving erratically around in a desperate attempt to get clear of the danger. Several people darted between her and Kilmer, obscuring her line of sight. And it was all the distraction the assassin needed.

Kilmer turned and shoved a frightened woman into a confused man, and took off down the street. Beckett attempted to readjust her aim, but lowered her gun with a frustrated groan, knowing there was no way she could hit him with innocent bystanders in the way. Gritting her teeth, Beckett summoned up the last reserves of her already spent energy—the beating she took the other day, and the injuries from the explosion were finally starting to take their toll on her—and dashed after him.

"Get down!" she cried.

With the Sig Sauer still clutched tightly in her hand, people jumped out of her way as she ran down the sidewalk, making her pursuit a tad bit easier. Kilmer was fast though, and smart. He used anything—and anyone—he could grab to throw down obstacles for her, be it a city trashcan or some random person that got in his way. Beckett breathed heavily as she dodged each one, though it still slowed her down, creating greater distance between them.

From behind her, she could hear Castle shouting for people to get out of the way. She risked a glance over her shoulder, and could see him weaving around the people who'd spilled out of the hotel and into the street. She caught his eyes, and he nodded in silent communication, trusting her to do what needed to be done while he attempted to catch up.

Gritting her teeth, Beckett steeled her determination, and ignored the ache of her muscles as she pushed herself onward. Kilmer darted to the right, and Beckett let out a hiss as she picked up the pace. She skidded around the corner and nearly collided with a man bending over to help an elderly woman who'd been knocked down. The man reached a hand out to steady her, and she gave a brief nod of her head in thanks before carrying on. The milling pedestrians had slowed Kilmer's escape, and he was angrily pushing a young couple apart as he plowed onward towards the crowded intersection.

"Police! Everyone out of the way!" Beckett shouted, her lungs burning with the effort as she pumped her legs harder, pounding her feet into the cement sidewalk as she closed the gap between her and the escaping Kilmer.

The bastard glanced over his shoulder and scowled, letting out a growl of frustration at not having thrown her off his tail. He ducked out into the street and maneuvered around the standstill traffic. He took his cuts and turns with expert precision, weaving through idling taxis and sedans with the ease of a gazelle. Beckett cursed under her breath, and followed him. She slammed her palm against the hood of a yellow taxi when the cabbie almost ran her over in an attempt to move up a couple of inches in the gridlocked street. The encounter cost her some seconds, and she surged herself around the back of a pickup truck in a desperate hope to make up some time.

Kilmer was just rounding the back of a silver sedan when she spotted him next. Her eyes flicked up and she saw a subway sign. Despite knowing it was futile, she shouted for him to stop. He ignored her, grabbing a yuppie commuter from behind and shoving him aside, before he plunged down the subway entrance. Beckett stopped briefly to help the young professional back to his feet, before gripping the side railing and using it for leverage to propel herself down the stairs.

"FBI! Everyone out of the way!" she could hear Castle shouting not far behind her.

Her leg muscles jolted with each step down into the subway. Gulping down a breath of air, Beckett hit the ground floor running, just barely spotting Kilmer jumping the turnstile. Gritting her teeth, Beckett put both hands down on the gate and vaulted over the metal bar. She landed back on her feet without losing her stride. She was gaining ground on Kilmer. She almost had him. Kilmer growled and shoved his way down the stairs towards the loading platform just as one of the shuttles was arriving at the station.

It was at this point that Castle finally caught up with her. "Which way did he go?" he questioned, placing one hand her shoulder as he panted, gasping for air.

"This way," she gestured towards the stairs heading down towards the platform. And the two of them took off after the fiendish assassin.

Beckett murmured hurried apologies as she squeezed between commuters as she followed Kilmer down the stairs, taking two steps at a time. With his broader frame, Castle couldn't maneuver around the tightly packed commuter without knocking them down, so he was slowed as a result. Not far ahead of them, she could see Kilmer leaping down the final sets of stairs and pushing people down in his rush towards the platform.

Gripping the railing to steady herself, Beckett glanced with desperate eyes to see Kilmer dart inside one of the open subway cars. She skipped the last three steps, and nearly lost her balance. Swinging her arms wildly, she only managed to keep her footing thanks to Castle grabbing the back of her jacket when he joined her on the platform. Together they raced towards the opened shuttle car doors.

Kilmer saw them coming, and stepped back, grinning as the subway intercom chimed and the doors rattled shut, blocking their pursuit.

Beckett let out a curse and slammed her fist against the door.

Kilmer smirked smugly, and shot her wink as the subway shuttle started to depart.

Beckett set her jaw in a scowl and glared at him. Wind generated by the departing shuttle swirled around her, causing her hair to blow wildly about her face. She stood beside a panting Castle on the platform, her shoulders slumped in defeat, feeling completely helpless and useless, unable to do anything to stop Ray Kilmer from getting away.


	20. Chapter 19

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 19**

He couldn't take his eyes off her. The disheartened and crestfallen look on her face was almost too much for him to bear. He wished there was more he could do to encourage her that it wasn't the end, that there was still more to do, but from his experience—both of which happened to take place in Istanbul—Raymond Kilmer would most likely disappear into thin air. The only lead they had was Johann Kriedt. The arms dealer had agreed to talk, but only if the government could guarantee his safety. Castle wasn't sure how much Kilmer would have revealed to Kriedt. He suspected it wasn't much. He could only hope that it would be enough to provide them with a few more leads.

Any and all sense of righteous vindication at having been proven right about Ray Kilmer's intentions at the campaign rally had been wiped away and forgotten the moment they heard the news from Agent McCord once they'd made it back to the Windmark Hotel.

The Vice President of the United States was dead.

He had been struck in the head and chest. Both shots had been fatal. Even though he had still been semi-conscious when the Secret Service had rushed him out of the building, he had been lost the moment the first bullet hit.

Senator William Bracken had been wounded. Though, unlike Vice President Russell, he had been lucky. If you could call being shot lucky? It was a clean shot, through and through. He would have to stay in the hospital for a week or more, and then he'd have to suffer through several months of physical therapy to be able to use his arm normally again, but he would survive.

The pundits and talking heads were already calling him a hero. Apparently footage from the campaign rally showed the Senator trying to save the Vice President by diving in front of him when the shooting started. Castle had to give it to Bracken, not many senators would willing take a bullet for a fellow politician, especially one that was a rival for the party's presidential nomination. There already seemed to be a strong sense amongst the national media outlets that with his heroics today, William Bracken had all but locked up the nomination. Castle wasn't too sure, but then again, he'd never really followed politics as much as he should, considering his career.

The elevator chime dinged, and the doors rattled open on the 4th floor of the 12th Precinct. Beckett stepped out first, and Castle followed. Her back was straight and stiff. She walked almost as if in a daze. He moved up beside her, matching her stride, and gently placed a hand along the small of her back, trying to ease the tension in her muscles with a soothing caress. Beckett turned her head ever so slightly to acknowledge the comforting touch and offered him a weak smile in gratitude for his support.

Castle wished there was more he could do. He wanted desperately to pull her into the hallway, away from prying eyes, and hold her close in a fierce hug. He wanted to reach up and cup her jaw in his palm, soothe away the stress lines along her face with his tender touch and kiss away her worries.

But he couldn't do that. At least not at present. Later, when it was just the two of them alone in a hotel suite, they could decompress together.

They turned around the corner and entered the homicide bullpen. The room was buzzing with activity: Uniformed officers were escorting witnesses to interview rooms, detectives were taking statements and making notes, and civilian clerks were busy manning the phone lines. It was like organized chaos in action. Castle came to a halt at the entrance to the bullpen, letting Beckett proceed ahead without him. He took a step back, observing it all. He arched his neck and glanced up towards a television set mounted on the wall. The breaking news program was reporting on the shooting at the Windmark Hotel.

Glancing back down, Castle caught Beckett's shoulders slumping in defeat as she stood by her desk, alone in the sea of activity. She dropped her head, and closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Castle sighed, and stepped back up behind her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Beckett startled at that unexpected touch, but when she turned her head to see it was him, she relaxed just a little bit and eased into his touch.

"Beckett!" the irritated voice of Captain Gates snapped them both back to reality.

"Captain?" Beckett inquired, stepping sideways to put a professional distance between her and Castle.

Gates flicked her eyes between Beckett and Castle, before settling back on the detective and pointing her finger at her. "I'd like a word with you in my office, now," Gates stated, turning around without waiting for a response and marching into her office.

Beckett bit her lower lip and exchanged a look with Castle.

"Good luck," he murmured softly.

"Thanks," she mouthed, slipping her hand down between them to squeeze his hand in gratitude.

Castle offered her a supportive smile, squeezing her hand back, and then let her go. He sat on the edge of her desk and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her walk away, head held high as she entered the captain's office and closed the door behind her.

XXX

The cellphone buzzed as it vibrated on the glass tabletop, making the sound reverberate throughout the silent conference room. NCS Director Samson York turned around from his view out the window at the inner courtyard of the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. He contemplated letting the call go to voicemail. Everything seemed to spiral out of control. The mess in New York was only half of it. There was a leak within the Agency. Someone was providing information and resources to Kilmer. And if his suspicions were right, then they were facing a dangerous foe with powerful connections. The cellphone continued to buzz. He rubbed a hand across his bald crown, and stepped back over to the table, snatching the vibrating phone up.

"This is York," he answered the call.

" _Castle and Beckett were right_ ," came the voice of Martin Danberg.

"I know," York said, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. He had never really doubted them. He had known Rick Castle for a long time. He had been the one to recruit him into the Company. York knew he was trustworthy and his intel genuine. "I just heard." He sighed, thinking again of the clusterfuck that was New York. "What about Kilmer?"

There was a pause. " _He got away_ ," Danberg informed him. " _Beckett and Castle gave chase… but Kilmer was just one step ahead of them. However, we did get Johann Kriedt._ "

"Well that's something, at least," York stated with a sigh, knitting his eyebrows together and staring down at the table as he thought. "How was he captured?"

There was another pause. " _It was Detective Beckett_ ," Danberg asserted. " _She spotted him the crowd trying to gain access to the hotel lobby, and tackled him. The AG's people were on scene as well, and they took him into a backroom behind the hotel's front desk to question him_."

"And where is he now?"

" _Being transported back the Federal Building as we speak_ ," Danberg said. " _I have Chu and Evans with him. Thought it best to keep him in our hands for now. Don't want the AG's 'special' task force messing this one up again_."

"A sensible precaution," York agreed. He glanced up when there was a slight tap on the door and he spotted the tall, distinguished figure of Jackson Hunt leaning against the doorframe.

" _Any change to mission parameters, sir_?" Danberg inquired.

"Not as yet," he answered. "Continue the deception with Kovaks. We want him to think he has all the cards." York narrowed his eyes as Hunt raised a hand and motioned him over. "I have to go. Keep me informed. And Agent Danberg… good work."

York ended the call and pocketed his cellphone as he hurried around the conference table to meet Hunt at the door.

"Any news?"

"The boards lit up half an hour ago," Hunt spoke in a flat tone, face devoid of emotion as he retrieved a folded piece of paper from his inside jacket pocket.

"I don't understand," York said in a hush voice as he unfolded the paper to see a printout of a data spreadsheet. "This spike in chatter was expected, especially given the nature of the event."

Hunt shook his head, his expression remaining impassive. "Not like this."

York raised his eyebrows in surprise. "What do you think it means?"

"The Knave is not done yet," Hunt said. "You should probably alert my son and his detective to expect more." He paused, and glanced back out into the hall. "The Director's furious. He's already called an emergency meeting of department heads. He'll be looking for someone to blame."

"He has only himself to blame," York grumbled, frowning. "If he listened…"

Hunt placed a hand on York's shoulder, his expression grave. "Be careful, Samson," he said. "And watch out for Kovaks. The ball is still in play. And if he's going to make a move… it'll be soon."

York narrowed his eyes. "Then we'll be ready for him."

XXX

"What the hell were you thinking, Detective!?" Gates demanded, leaning forward on her desk as she fixed Beckett with a disapproving glare.

Beckett clenched her jaw and unflinchingly met her captain's fierce gaze. "I was doing my job, _sir_ ," she ground out through clenched teeth.

"Oh, you were doing your job? Is that it?" Gates echoed, shifting back and folding her arms across her chest. "Need I remind you that you offered your resignation the other day?"

Her mouth dropped to protest, but nothing came out. There was nothing she could say to that. There was no way to argue out of a stupid rash decision made in the heat of the moment. "Sir, I…," she fumbled. It was all she could manage before the captain silenced her with a raised hand.

"I was warned about you before I took this command," Gates said. "You have a history of reckless behavior and disobeying orders. Now… I know Captain Montgomery forgave it because he was your mentor and you got the job done. He might have even encouraged it a bit. I, on the other hand, don't." The captain paused, shifting her stance behind her desk, the tension in her shoulders relaxing just a tad. "That being said, you're a great detective, maybe one of the best in the department, and it would be a shame to lose you."

"Sir?"

"I never filed your resignation," Gates explained.

"Sir… I… thank you?" Beckett knitted her eyebrows together, and shifted her weight, unsure how to really respond.

Gates offered her a small smile. "You're still suspended, but you still have a job here… that is, if you still want it."

"I do," she answered without hesitation. "I do, very much. Thank you, Captain."

Gates inclined her head in a brief nod of acknowledgement. "Then I'll see you in a month."

Beckett opened her mouth to protest, but Captain Gates held up her hand.

"I don't want to hear it, Detective," the captain said. "The FBI and Homeland Security is handling the case now. And you're still on suspension. So, please… for once follow orders and stand down."

Beckett let out a breath and with great reluctance inclined her head in acceptance. "Yes, sir," she said, knowing full well she had no intention of following orders. She couldn't let Kilmer get away, not after everything he'd done. Despite what Gates said, it was still _her_ case. It would always be _her_ case. Beckett move to leave, but hesitated for a moment, turning back to look at her captain. "And again… thank you, sir," she spoke sincerely, grateful for the reprieve from her rash decision to resign. She didn't know what she'd do if she couldn't be a cop.

Gates dismissed her with a nod of her head, and then answered the phone ringing on her desk. Beckett turned away and opened the door, closing it behind her as she stepped out of the captain's office and into the bullpen.

She found Castle right where she'd left him. He was sitting on the edge of her desk that old flip phone of his in his hand. He was staring down at the screen, eyebrows knitted in concentration. Beckett stepped over to him and lightly touched his arm to gain his attention.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked.

"Huh? Oh… just a message from Danberg," he said, flipping the phone shut and shifting his weight on the edge of her desk to return the device back to his side pocket.

"And?"

"They've got nothing yet on Kilmer," Castle replied after a long sigh. "We'll know more once they get Kriedt into an interrogation room. He's got our people escorting him to the Federal Building."

"By 'our people' you mean CIA?" Beckett inquired with a raise eyebrow.

Castle hummed out an affirmative. He shifted and flicked his gaze towards Captain Gates's office. "How'd it go in there?"

Beckett sat down next to him on the edge of her desk, and smiled. "Surprisingly well," she answered with a soft laugh, still slightly amazed by Gates's understanding. "I'm not fired."

"Still have a job then, eh?" Castle chuckled.

"Yep," she answered with a bob of her head. "Though still suspended… for a month."

"A month, you say?" Castle lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Now what might you do with a month off work?"

"Hmm, that's a difficult question," Beckett bit her lower lip as her eyes flicked down to his mouth before flirting back up to meet his gaze. "Got any suggestions?"

"Oh, yeah, a few," Castle chuckled, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She pursed her lips together, and dropped her head, letting her hair fall down to shield her smile and blushing cheeks. It felt wrong to feel like this after what had just happened. The Vice President was dead, and his assassin was still out there. Technically it wasn't her job to find him, but she felt irrationally responsible. Heaving in a deep breath, she jerked her head back up and met her boyfriend's curious gaze. He smiled back at her. And she could tell by just the way he looked at her that he loved her with every fiber of his being. It stole her breath away, and made her feel extremely grateful to have him by her side.

"Thank you," she said, finding his hand with hers.

He curled his fingers around hers, and their palms kissed, sealing their connection. Without the need for any other words, she could tell that Castle knew exactly what she'd meant. His smiled at her, and squeezed her hand in support.

"We'll get him," Castle said. "Me and you. Together."

She pursed her lips together and swallowed, nodding her head in agreement. "Together."

Castle smirked, a wistful look coming into his eyes. "And afterwards, we'll go away. Just the two of us. Take advantage of your month off. I think it's safe to say after all the shit we've both been through we deserve a vacation."

"Yes, we do," she let out a soft chuckle. "Somewhere with sun and sand."

"And fruity drinks with little colorful umbrellas."

"And no clothes," she added with a playful smirk and saucy wink.

"Oh yes, definitely no clothes," Castle concurred with a low chuckle. He bumped his forehead against hers. "I like the way you think, Detective."

She smiled back at him, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back and putting a professional distance between them. She exhaled slowly, finally letting the little bubble they were in pop, and reluctantly allowing reality back in. The playful sparkle in her eyes dimmed, replaced with fierce determination. "But first we need to get Kilmer."

Castle leaned back and inclined his head. "We'll get him," he asserted confidently, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. "We'll get him."

Beckett inhaled deeply, milking in his confidence. She'd never grow tired of seeing his faith in them as a team. They had worked well together when they went against Sophia Turner last year, and she had little doubt they'd continue to do the same in the future. She offered him a brief smile, before standing up and walking around her desk. She opened her bottom drawer and took out a bag she'd kept there with a pair of backup clothes. She had never expected she'd ever need to use it because her apartment had blown up.

"Hey guys, you're here!" Ryan came rushing into the bullpen from one of the side halls. "Wait up!"

Beckett stopped what she was doing, noticing the troubled looked on her colleague's face. "Kevin?" she questioned. "What is it?

Castle stood up from his perch on the side of her desk and stepped aside to let the younger detective in. Ryan sucked in a deep breath and held up his phone.

"The car transporting Kriedt to the Federal Building," he started, pausing to catch his breath. "It got shot up. Kriedt's dead, as are the three Feds escorting him."

"Shit," Castle groaned. His face fell. "I knew two of those agents. Good men."

"You think it was Kilmer?" Ryan asked, still working at catching his breath.

Beckett nodded. "Without a doubt. Either it was him or someone else. Either way, we just lost our best lead."

The three of them stood there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Beckett couldn't help but feel that sense of hopelessness and defeat start to creep back in. Kriedt had been their only hope at finding out what Kilmer's plan was and where they could possibly find him. With Kriedt now dead, she didn't know what else they could do.

Ryan shook his head. "What do we do now?"

Beckett opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a new arrival.

"We get that son-of-a-bitch, once and for all."

They all turned to see Javier Esposito marching across the bullpen with a determined look on his face. He strolled over, joining them in their huddle around Beckett's desk, purposefully standing as far away from Ryan as he could. It wasn't lost on Beckett that the two partners avoided each other's gaze. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head at the stubbornness of men.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Castle asked, giving the other suspended detective a quizzical look.

Esposito held up a slip of paper. "I called in a favor with an old army buddy."

"Javi… that's… wow. Okay, what have you got?" Beckett asked, feeling her heart rate pick up with anticipation for some forward momentum on the case.

Esposito offered a pleased smirk. "An address."


	21. Chapter 20

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 20**

Ray Kilmer tucked his hands into his pockets and ducked his head down low to avoid being seen as two police cruisers zoomed by, blue and red lights flashing with sirens blaring. After the two black and white patrol cars disappeared around the block, Kilmer looked both ways and then hurried across the street. He walked along the sidewalk, blending in with the light foot traffic in front of the stores and shops.

News about what had happened at the Windmark Hotel had spread throughout the city. Pedestrians were buzzing with the shocking news, chattering away about Vice President Russell's assassination and what it meant for the upcoming presidential election, and also about the potential of any other threats towards national security. People were also exalting the bravery and heroics of Senator William H. Bracken.

The wounded senator was already on the rise, gaining public support and valuable political capital.

All according to the plan.

The operation had been a success, however the presence of Agent Castle and Detective Beckett tempered Kilmer's celebratory and triumphant mood. The lady detective was really starting to irritate him. If he'd been a second slower, she might have caught up to him. Fortunately the subway had been running on schedule, so he was able to elude her. But the fact he even had to evade her in the first place grated on his nerves. The bitch was supposed to be dead. Three times he'd tried. And three times he'd failed. And it pissed him off. He had a reputation to maintain and Kate Beckett was a blemish on that record. One he planned on rectifying as soon as possible.

With Kriedt disposed of, thanks to his employer's connection within the CIA, that left Detective Beckett as the last loose end that needed to be tidied up before the operation was complete. Kilmer hoped he got another shot at Castle as well. And with the two of them all cozy together, he wagered he had a pretty good chance at taking them out at the same time.

His phone buzzed inside his pocket.

"Yes?" he answered in a gruff manner.

"Someone breached the network and got a look at your file," the CIA insider replied. "I've done my best, but the information still got out. I would have noticed it sooner, but I was busy sending that hit squad after the arms dealer."

"You did good with that," Kilmer answered, flirting his eyes about at the other pedestrians walking around him. Paranoia was his constant companion.

"Yeah, well next time it would be nice if you could clean up after yourself," the arrogant prick said.

Kilmer narrowed his eyes. "I'm almost done here," he said. "Just one more thing and then I'm going off the grid for a while."

"If you're talking about Agent Castle and that female detective, they're heading towards the stash house on Markwell Street. If you hurry, you could get there before them."

He chuckled darkly. "Thanks, you've been a big help, buddy," he smirked, and ended the call before the jackass could reply. Kilmer hated bureaucrats. They often got in his way. But sometimes they were a necessary evil; Like his employer's man inside the CIA. Kilmer may have once been part of the Agency, but he didn't really have the kind of influence and internal power the other man had. Though, truth be told, even he wasn't above appreciating the information the operation could gleam from someone within the CIA, even if the guy was a tool.

The tip off about the stash house was troubling. It wasn't part of the network of safe houses that the organization used. However, it currently held some importance. Before Kilmer and Kriedt had gone to the safe house after rigging the detective's apartment to explode, they had visited the building on Markwell Street. The files that had once belonged to the late Captain Roy Montgomery that incriminated Kilmer's employer were currently being held there for safe keeping. He couldn't allow those files to fall into the hands of Castle and his lady detective.

He double-checked his location. He wasn't too far from Markwell Street. If he hurried, he might be able to get there at the same time they did. And if he was lucky, he might just catch them off guard. Narrowing his eyes, Kilmer pursed his lips together and shoved his hands into his pockets as he jogged across the street. He cocked his head to the left and spotted the street sign. A thin smirk twisted its way onto his face before he ducked into a side alley, slipping away into the shadows.

XXX

The Crown Vic came to a screeching halt, and Kate Beckett surged out onto the sidewalk before the engine even cut off. The address Esposito had obtained from his contact took them to a building in the middle of renovation set up on 86 Markwell Street. Scaffolding covered the building's façade. She took a step forward and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she stared up at the ten story building. Castle slammed the car door shut after he climbed out. He let out a groan.

"Are you sure you wrote that address down correctly?" he questioned, casting a glance in the detective's direction.

Esposito grumbled something in Spanish under his breath before answering. "The address is right, bro," he defended. "Don't tell me spies never hold up in buildings like this?"

Castle offered a shrug in reply. "Sometimes. It depends really."

"On what?"

"On the mission," Castle answered vaguely, turning away from the other man and stepping around the car to join Kate on the sidewalk. He placed folded his arms across his chest and gave her a sideways glance.

"What do you think?"

Kate narrowed her eyes. "He's here," she said, staring up at the building. "I can feel it in my gut."

"Then that's good enough for me," Castle said, reaching inside his pocket and pulling out his phone. He flipped the device open and started tapping at the keys with his thumb. Kate glanced down and frowned, placing a hand over his, halting his texting. Castle looked up with a furrowed brow. "Kate?"

"I… don't know," she said, knitting her eyebrows together, confused by her own actions. "I just… do you think it's wise calling it in?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Its just… look, for Kilmer to pull off what he did at the Windmark, he has to have connections, right?"

"Are you saying someone at the CIA is helping him?" Castle demanded, a little offended by the notion, even though there were some within the Agency that he didn't trust at all. And that was not even including the fact that just last year he and Kate had uncovered and stop a rogue agent.

"I'm just saying it's a possibility," Kate said.

"York wouldn't betray me," Castle said with a shake of his head. "He was the one that recruited me out of college. He's like a father to me. Besides… after the Vice President's assassination, I was placed back on active duty. There's protocol to adhere to."

Kate bit her lower lip to suppress a smirk. "Since when did you follow orders?"

Castle rewarded her wit with a wink, and then proceeded to text the updated intel to his superior at the Central Intelligence Agency. He waited for a reply, but none came. Kate caught his eye and let out a questioning hum.

"Must be busy," he shrugged his shoulders and closed the flip phone, stashing it back in his inside pocket.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

"Right," Kate turned back around to look at Ryan and Esposito. Both of them were still standing by the car, several feet distance between them. She rolled her eyes at their childish behavior, but tabled any lecturing until after they caught Kilmer. "You two go around the back and see if you can find some stairs to reach the top floors. Castle and I will go through the front and start at the bottom. We'll meet in the middle."

Esposito grimaced, flicking his eyes tentatively over at his partner. "Um… you sure I can't—"

"Stow it, Espo," Kate growled, planting her hands on her hips and giving him a tense stare. "You can act like a professional and do your job."

"Right, boss," he nodded.

She turned her gaze towards Ryan.

"No problems here," the younger man held up his hands to ward off any scalding.

"Good," Kate gave a quick nod. "Then let's go get this son-of-a-bitch."

Ryan and Esposito hesitate, each giving the other cautious looks, before hustling down the block. Kate let out a long breath and turned back around to share a frustrated look with her boyfriend. Castle offered her a reassuring smile and gestured towards the front doors of the building.

"Ladies first."

XXX

Detective Ryan glanced at his partner with a remorseful expression. "Hey, Javi… I'm so—"

"Yeah, yeah… I get it, you're sorry," Esposito grumbled, steaming ahead. Ryan had to pick up the pace to keep up with him. "Look, man, we can table this for later, okay? We've got bigger fish to fry. Beckett needs are help and I'm not letting her down _again_."

Ryan let out a shaky breath and bobbed his head. "Okay, yeah… right," he stammered out an agreement.

"Good," Esposito said with a decisive nod and marched forward.

"It'll be okay, though," Ryan asserted. "After all, she's got Agent Castle now."

Esposito let out a puff of air. "Do we really know anything about the guy?"

"Well…," Ryan raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. "No, not really. But Beckett trusts him, surely that should be good enough for us."

"It usually is," Esposito affirmed with a nod. "However, this ain't your typical situation."

"Wait...," Ryan furrowed his brow in confusion. "Are you saying that you think Beckett's… emotionally compromised?"

Esposito came to a halt and glanced at him with a pointed look. "It's not just spy boy," he explained. "It's this whole case. Look, man, you weren't here in the early days. It got dark. It's like a rabbit hole for her."

"Then why didn't you try and stop her—"

"Because I've got her back and… she's got mine," Esposito growled out. "It's what partners do. They're loyal to each other. That's more than I can say for some."

"Hey!" Ryan shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling his to a halt. "Shove it, Javi. You can disagree with what I did, but don't you dare question my loyalty to the team. We're like family. All of us."

Esposito scowled and jerked his arm free. "Let's just stay focus on getting Kilmer, alright? We'll deal with this other shit later."

Ryan let out a sigh of frustration, but decided to let the matter drop. Despite what Esposito might think at the moment, Ryan knew his partner well. The wound was still too fresh. He needed to let it heal over before he tried reasoning with him. He could only hope they're friendship could survive this. But Esposito was right about one thing. They needed to focus on capturing Kilmer and bringing him to justice. Everything else could come later.

They jogged around the block and rounded the corner. Ryan kept watch as Esposito picked the lock on the chain link gate. Once inside, they located a stairwell and started working their way up towards the top floor. As far as Ryan could tell, there wasn't much to see, except for some cleared out and torn down rooms. He hoped Beckett and Castle were fairing better.

XXX

The place was a mess. Walls had been torn out, leaving just the skeleton support structure underneath. Metal beams and supports were visible, some bent at odd angles. The ceiling was no better. All the tiles had been ripped off, exposing the pipes and electrical wiring. It didn't at all look like a building being renovated, more like it was being prepped for demolition.

Surprised by the sight, Kate paused at the threshold, hesitating. She glanced back over her shoulder, staring back at the decent looking lobby beyond. Pursing her lips, she turned back, wrinkling her nose as she knitted her eyebrows together in confusion.

"Not what you pictured?" Castle inquired, standing beside her, a slight upward quirk to his lips.

Kate let out a hum of confirmation, before taking a cautious step forward. She maneuvered around a bent metal beam and ducked her head under a low support, moving deeper into the interior. Castle followed behind her. Kate narrowed her eyes and scanned the deconstructed space as they walked into what was once a row of first floor apartments, searching for any sign of Kilmer.

"You ever had to lay low in a place like this?" she asked, tilted her head in her boyfriend's direction.

"Couple of times, yeah," Castle replied with a slight bob of his head. "Though, never in the States. Most of the safe houses here might be a little rundown, but none of them have fallen into a state of neglect."

"Or been schedule for demolition?" she added with a raised eyebrow and a mildly amused expression.

He nodded. "My guess would be this place wasn't entirely under Kilmer's control, or whoever is employing him, because I very much doubt he's doing all of this on his own accord."

"That would be my guess as well," Kate agreed.

She turned and walked through what had once been a hallway. Castle stepped forward and gripped the edge of a loose piece of dry wall. He tugged it aside, letting her duck underneath and proceed deeper into the structure. Kate crouched down, placing her hands on her knees as she surveyed the disassembled floor. She pursed her lips and frowned.

"I don't really see how this could be a very good safe house," she declared, stand back up and turning to look back at Castle.

He shrugged. "It's not supposed to be," he said. "A place like this… it's more of a stash house."

"So what you're saying is that if Kilmer isn't here, it's likely he has something hidden away that we can use to lure him back out?"

Castle touched his nose. "Right."

She nodded, and pirouetted around to continue on down the deconstructed hallway. Castle kept pace beside her, and they walked in silence for a brief interval. Kate licked her lips, and glanced over at him with a small smile.

"Hey," she said, putting a hand on his arm to catch his attention. He cocked his head towards her, flashing her a questioning look. "Thanks."

Castle let out a soft laugh and continued walking. "For what? We haven't found him yet."

"It… it's just that I know I would never have gotten this far if it wasn't for you," she explained with a soft smile, knowing he would understand she was referring to the progress made in finding the person responsible for her mother's death, and also the unwavering love and support he had offered her over the last few days. She hoped her gratitude was visible in her eyes.

He stopped and arched his neck to look at her. She stared back, and they shared a brief moment where they both displayed their appreciation for one another.

"Hey, we're going to get this done," Castle proclaimed with a firm conviction that had Kate smiling like a lovesick fool. "You and me." He placed a large hand around her slim waist, tugging her closer to his broad frame. "And when we're done, we'll go away to some tropical island and spend some quality time alone."

"Yes, I'd like that… a lot," she bit her lower lip and blushed, averting her eyes almost bashfully. There was just something about him that brought out this coy quality that she'd never had before. It was strange, and a little unsettling, but the way it made her heart beat and her insides tingle with a pleasant warmth, she was willing to brave the undiscovered country, just as long as he was by her side.

He smiled at her, and let his hand drop to hers, lacing their fingers together. He offered her a comforting squeeze, before letting go and stepping back a bit, breaking them out of their bubble and returning them to reality. "So, first we should start by ruling out all the interior rooms. Kilmer wouldn't risk hiding whatever it is he's stashed away here with all this sheet rock getting torn down. Ceilings are no good either."

Kate bobbed her head as he spoke, letting her eyes wander. It was purely by chance that she caught sight of the brass boxes lying strewn across the floor, half taken apart. Even in the dim light and the debris covered room, she'd lived in enough apartments to recognize what they were: Mailboxes.

"Castle," she touched his arm as she slipped around him, walking around a bent wall beam. "It's worth a look, don't you think?"

He nodded in agreement as she knelt down beside the brass mailboxes, skimming her fingertips over the rough surface. Castle crouched down on the other side, arching his neck as he gazed down at the names on each mailbox lid. Kate ran her finger down the left side, nose wrinkling as she concentrated. After several boxes, she spotted a name she that looked vaguely familiar.

"Castle, look here," she tapped the mailbox. "C. Marx. 523."

"Cedric Marx," he confirmed with a light hum. "That's one of Kilmer's oldest aliases." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "He just wasn't using this place as a stash house."

"He had a secret apartment on the fifth floor," Kate finished. She shared a look with Castle. They had him. Or at least, they'd be able to find whatever it was that Kilmer had stashed away. And then, with that, they could do as Castle had suggested earlier, and lure Kilmer out. And then… then they'd have him.

The sound of a gun cocking shattered her optimistic hopes, yanking her back to the real world. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him.

Ray Kilmer stood there with a tight grin. "Well, well, well… look what I've got here," he said. He point the gun at her. "Stand up and turn around."

Kate's throat constricted as she swallowed past the tense lump that had manifested. She raised her hands up, and slowly stood up. Castle glared at Kilmer, the fire in his eyes strong, but when the other man tightened his aim on her, Castle relented.

"Hands behind your back," Kilmer ordered when they were in position. He stepped up behind them, keeping his weapon aimed on her, and quickly patted them down, divesting them of their guns. "You just don't quit, do you?" His question was directed at her, but Castle opened his mouth to answer.

"Who's paying you this time, Ray?" he inquired, his voice holding a hard edge to it. "How much does it take to sell your soul to the devil?"

Kilmer merely chuckled darkly. "You never learn, do you, Rick?" he shook his head, tugging a zip tie out of his jacket pocket as he approached Castle. He quickly wrapped them around Castle's wrists, and smirked as he tugged them tight. "It's never been about the money." Kilmer removed another zip tie and did the same to Kate. "It's about history, and being on the right side."

"You think _you're_ on the right side of history?" Kate scoffed, wincing slightly as he tightened the zip tie around her wrists. She grunted as the plastic dug into her skin. "You're wrong."

Kilmer shook his head. "You should have left well enough alone, Detective Beckett," he said, voice low and menacing.

"It's the missing files from Captain Montgomery's home office, isn't it," Kate guessed. "That's what you have hidden in 523." When he didn't answer, she knew she was right. "You're here to retrieve it, aren't you?"

Kilmer growled, and jammed the barrel on the gun into her back. He cast a sideways glanced towards Castle. "I can't believe you fell for her," he shook his head and grabbed her arm, yanking her back. "Yeah, you're right, Detective. And once I do, I'm finally going to settle our account." He shoved her towards an opened doorway, and gestured with his gun for Castle to follow. Castle hesitated for a moment, glaring back at his adversary, before doing as he was told.

Kate glanced around the disused bathroom, noting the busted shower stall and the dirty curtain hanging off the rod. But she barely had enough time to give the room a proper inspection before Castle was being shoved in behind her. She glanced back up at the doorway and glared at their captor.

"See you soon," Kilmer offered her a smug grin and a wink, ignoring her fiery stare, before he closed the door with a loud slam. And if the hard clunk of the metal tumblers were any indication, it would not be easy to break the door open.

"Kate?"

Her eyes flicked away from the locked down and find her boyfriend's.

"How tight are your zip ties? Can you move your hands at all?" he asked.

Kate frowned as she tried to move her hands, twisting her torso around, and gritting her teeth when the surgical scar along her side pulled. She let out an exasperated hiss. "No, just barely."

"Do you have anything sharp in your pockets?" he asked. "Like a knife?"

"Um… no."

"Nail clippers?"

She gave him a pointed look, sorely tempted to roll her eyes. "Seriously, Rick? Who carries nail clippers?"

"Just trying to lighten the mood," he offered a tight smile.

"Surely you've gotten out of tougher situations than this," she said after a long pause, trying to stifle the rising sense of failure and defeat.

Castle inclined his head. "Yes, that is true," he said, his tone of voice much more positive than hers. "Ooh, look! There's a drywall screw on the sink over there!" He moved over to the sink, and turned around to face her, smiling like a maniac as he bent his knees to pick the screw up off the dirty porcelain with his nimble fingers.

"That's not going to help," Kate bemoaned.

"Ah, I beg to differ," Castle declared with a chipper grin. Spinning around to scoot his back up against hers. She felt their knuckles brush and then heard the scrape of the screw against her zip ties. "There was this one time in Chechnya…"

Kate closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the sound of his soothing voice as Castle used the dull and rusty screw to saw through the plastic of the zip ties holding her hands together. She released a breath through her nose and relaxed her body against his strong back, allowing him to hold her up as he proceeded to inform her about what he claimed was an amusing anecdote from his younger days as a covert operative learning the ropes of the trade while behind enemy lines. He was so good at telling stories. She hoped that one day, long after all their adventures were done, he'd be able to tell them to more than just her.


	22. Chapter 21

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 21**

The elevator doors rattled open just as his phone buzzed with a text message. Pulling the device out of his pocket as he exited the lift, he swiped his thumb across the screen, bringing up the message. He read it silently, his eyebrows knitting together slowly. The florescent lights flickered above him as he marched down the dimly lit hallway of the sub-basement at the abandoned CIA black site. His footsteps echoed off the concrete walls. He maneuvered his way through the maze of corridors, following the power cords and network cabling that ran along side the wall in a loose tangle.

The steel door was closed this time. He stepped up to the security pad and punched in the passcode. There was a hum, and the screen flashed. He placed his hand on the monitor and waited for it to complete its scan. The machine beeped, and the clunk-clunk of the tumblers unbolting sounded. A buzzer sounded, and he opened the door, stepping into the facilities active command center.

"How was your meeting with the Director?" Jackson Hunt asked, turning away from the large high-resolution video screens mounted on the far wall.

Samson York let out a sigh and rubbed a hand across his bald head. "You were right, he's looking for someone to blame."

"Are you in any danger?" Hunt inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Not yet, no," York said. "And we have your son to thank for that. If Rick hadn't called me with the information he and Detective Beckett had gathered, we wouldn't have known Kilmer was going after the Vice President." He paused and let out a sigh. "If only we'd acted on it sooner."

"Or if those in power actually listened us," Hunt finished. He placed a hand on York's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Samson."

York nodded, and took his glasses off as he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. After taking a long breath, he shifted gears. "Did we see any movement?"

"Yes," Hunt said with a nod, he gestured towards a computer terminal where a tech analyst of Indian ancestry was sitting. "Kovaks made a call to a deregistered TCD-447," he explained as they walked over to the station.

The tech analyst looked up at their approach, having heard the start of the conversation. "A batch went missing several months back. Agent Hunt tasked me with tracking them down."

"And you finally found them?" York questioned.

"Not all, no," the tech admitted. "But I did manage to find the one that mattered. Most seem to be in use overseas or on the West Coast, namely Los Angeles. It was difficult, and took some time, but I did get a ping on one operating in the New York City area."

"Kilmer?"

"That was my thought, yes," Hunt answered with a nod. "Mr. Singh was able to able to hack into the device and clone it. So we're able to see and hear anything Kilmer does with it."

"And?"

Hunt offered a tight smile. "If we'd hacked it earlier we might have been able to back Agent Castle and Detective Beckett up at the Windmark. Don't know if we have been able to stop Kilmer, but at least we would have had some evidence."

"Are you actually starting to develop some feelings?" York asked with a slight smirk. "I thought you were above all that."

Hunt glared. "No. Just disappointed we weren't able to nab Kilmer there," he said. "Point is, now we got him. Both of them, to be precise. Kovaks called Kilmer an hour ago. We got him admitting to sending a hit squad to kill the arms dealer Johann Kriedt. It's not a complete confession, and we'd need more before we can act, but it's a start. Kovaks also informed Kilmer about my son and his detective heading towards a stash house on—"

"Markwell Street," York finished. Hunt actually gave him a miffed look, as if he was angry at being interrupted, even if the information was correct. "I just got a text from Agent Castle— _your son_ —giving me an update on the investigation." He paused for a brief moment, before explaining, "After what happened with the Vice President, I put him back on active duty."

"You trained him well," Hunt noted.

York shrugged. "He was a natural," he said. "He takes after his father."

"Oh no," Hunt shook his head. "The boy's all his mother. He may have some of my genes, but she raised him." He glanced away, lost in thought for a brief moment.

"We should send Danberg in with a team to assist them," York said. "We need to take Kilmer, preferably alive."

"You don't honestly think he'd roll on Kovaks, do you?" Hunt asked with a dubious look. "Ray Kilmer was one of the Agencies best agents until he went rogue. That's one of the reasons it's been so hard to track him down." He paused and frowned. "It's time we read Agent Danberg fully in. Too many people already know about this operation, but if this has any chance of success, we need Danberg with us."

"I trust him," York asserted. "He proved his loyalty during the fiasco with Sophia Turner."

"That was a clusterfuck," Hunt grumbled, stating it as fact. "But you're right. He pulled through for us in that one." He turned back to the large monitors, staring at the satellite images of New York City. He folded his arms across his chest, his head dropped down in contemplation. "Alright," he agreed at length. "Call Danberg. Read him in. Hopefully he can get to Castle and Beckett before Kilmer can slip through their fingers."

"Do you have such little faith in your son's abilities?" York gave him a disapproving glare.

"It's not him I'm worried about, Samson," Hunt answered, giving him a sideways glance. "It is the company he keeps."

XXX

Kate pursed her lips and stared ahead at the locked door. She couldn't help but feel a sense of embarrassment that Kilmer had got the drop on them so easily. Over a dozen different scenarios kept invading her mind. They could have fought back. It had been two against one. But then again, the odds had been the same up on the rooftop of the Rosslyn Hotel, and Kilmer had handily won there. Besides, Monday morning quarterbacking was a useless endeavor.

She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic scratching noises coming from where the screw was rubbing against the hard plastic of the zip ties holding her wrists together. Castle grumbled under his breath. Even without seeing his face, Kate could tell her boyfriend was just as upset over how their confrontation with Kilmer as she was.

Everything about this case—from the very beginning—had been difficult. When she first started looking into her mother's death, Kate would never have imagined the range and scope it would eventually encompass. What had been written off as an act of random gang violence had been anything but. It was far more complex… and complicated. And it was clearer than ever before that someone powerful had been pulling the strings from the shadows.

Castle let out an agitated growl. "I'm barely making a dent in this thing." He stepped back away from her and tossed the rusty screw away in frustration. His face scrunched up in thought.

"Rick, it's okay," Kate sighed, turning around to face him. She disapproved of him taking the blame for their current situation. If anyone was at fault, it was her. If he hadn't fallen for her then he wouldn't have got involved. When he didn't respond, Kate gently nudged him with her shoulder. "Hey, it's not your fault, Rick. None of it is."

He blinked and looked at her questioningly, his brow furrowed. "What?"

"I never meant for you to get involved in this," she continued unabated. "This case… has been my life for nearly ten years. I've lived it for my entire adult life. It's become an obsession. And I never would have got this far if it hadn't been for—"

"Wait!" Castle interjected with a hoot, his eyebrows shooting in excitement. "I got it."

Caught off guard and still stuck in her previous train of thought, Kate furrowed her brow in confusion as she glanced up at her animated boyfriend. "Um… got what?"

"I remember watching a video on YouTube on how to break zip tie cuffs," he explained with an almost manic grin.

Kate shook her head in befuddlement. "I don't understand. Why would you need to watch YouTube videos on how to—You know what? I don't care. Just tell me what we need to do."

"All you have to do is just hit them as hard as you can against your ass," Castle informed her with a wink, before he stared bouncing up and down in front of her. Kate just glared at him in response when nothing happened. Castle offered a half smile. "Um… It might take a few tries."

"Fine," she worked hard at stifling an eye roll before following his lead. There wasn't anything to lose. It certainly beat just standing around and waiting for Kilmer to return to torture them to death. Kate bounced up and down a few times, trying to align her hips at the right angle. She let out a grunt and snapped her arms back against the small of her back. The plastic of the zip ties tug into the skin around her wrists and she let out a curse.

Castle bent his knees and jumped again, sticking his butt out a bit more than before. The sight was almost comical, but the laugh on the tip of her tongue vanished when he swung his arms back hard against his ass and suddenly his hands were free.

"Yes!" Castle did a little fist pump. Always the professional, her boyfriend. She wondered how he even made it through basic CIA training with his class clown behavior. He glanced over at her with a smug grin and wiggled his free fingers tauntingly. "Come on, Kate. Shake that booty!"

Kate glared at him. "You really are a jackass sometimes, you know that?"

"But I'm your jackass, and you love me," he declared, batting his eyelashes as if he was just an innocent little boy.

She smirked at that, but didn't deny it, which resulted in a smug grin from her boyfriend. "Oh shut up, and see to that door," she ordered. Castle offered her a playful salute and then turned his energy towards the locked bathroom door. Kate stepped back and watched as he pounded his strong broad shoulders against the door. The metal groaned, and it shook against the rusty hinges. After a few more jumps, Kate finally struck the right rhythm and the zip ties snapped off, freeing her hands. She glanced towards Castle, holding up her hands to show him, her mouth forming an 'O' in surprise that it actually worked.

Castle grinned, a look of 'I told you' flashing across his face, before he pulled back from the door. He gritted his teeth, and with a harsh grunt, kicked at the door. The hinges buckled and came free. The metal door groaned and toppled over, landing in the outside corridor with a loud, resounding clang. He was out of the room seconds later, crouching down besides the brass mailboxes again. He ran his fingers along the lids, his eyes scanning the labels.

"What floor?" Kate asked, coming up behind him.

"Fifth," Castle replied, glancing up at her.

"If we hurry, we can stop him and get those files," Kate asserted, already reaching for her gun, only remembering a moment later that Kilmer had stripped them of their weapons.

Castle stood up. "We'll get him, Kate," he assured. "And we'll get those files."

"I know," she nodded, not sure if she really did. "But he took our—"

"I don't need a gun to kill him," Castle said in a firm voice, eyes hard and cold. Kate found the sight a little terrifying.

"You don't need to kill him, Rick," Kate said. "We need him to talk."

Castle scoffed and gave her a knowing look. "That man will never _talk_. Never." He cracked his knuckles. "Come on, let's go. Ryan and Esposito should be hitting the fifth floor about now. We'll meet up with them and borrow their back up weapons."

"Alright," she nodded, stepping around the half-dismantled mailboxes and placing a hand on his bicep, wanting to look him in the eye so that her point was clear. "I need him alive, Rick. Do you think you can put your personal feelings aside to do that?"

He frowned for a moment, before his expression relaxed and his gaze softened. "For you, Kate, I can do anything."

XXX

He walked into the apartment, slow and careful, ducking his head below a bent beam hanging above the entryway. The walls were bare plasterboard, though some had been stripped, exposing the support structure underneath. Piping and electric cables were visible. Kilmer stepped further into the half dismantled apartment, entering what had once been the living room. He stared at the floor, which had long ago been carpeted, now it lay bare and uncovered. Even before the deconstruction process had begun the apartment had always been spartan. It wasn't like he visited much. He had only ever really used this place as a stash house. And this was to be its last use. After he finished this operation, he planned on disappearing for a while and enjoying the fruits of his labor.

A smirk twisted its way across his lips.

He couldn't wait to retrieve the files from the hidden compartment and then return to the restrained Agent Castle and Detective Beckett. He was really looking forward to settling the score with them, each for different reasons. Agent Castle had been a constant blemish on his otherwise superb record. The man was supposed to have died that night in Istanbul, but somehow he'd survived. Bastard. And the woman. He narrowed his eyes and growled a little under his breath. She was an annoying one. She, too, was supposed to be dead. Two attempts and two failures. Not very good for his reputation. He was almost giddy with anticipation for all the fun that could be had with the two of them, and all the ways he could torture them, both emotionally and physically. It was going to be a struggle deciding which one would die first.

Veering to the left, Kilmer bypassed the living room and stalked down a long narrow hallway, leading him into one of the empty bedrooms. Like the living room, the floor had been stripped, leaving just the rough underwood. Most of the bedroom as intact, though the ceiling was exposed, air vents and plumbing visible. He slowly circled the room, running his hands along the drywall. He came to a halt along a whitewashed door. As far as he knew this was one of the only remaining doors left standing in the interior of the apartment complex.

Kilmer removed a key from his pocket and quickly unlocked the door. He yanked the door opened and retrieved a black rucksack from inside. He immediately marched back into the living room. Standing at the threshold, he narrowed his eyes, and stared down hard at the floor. Something seemed off to him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something had changed.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kilmer barely spotted the thinnest of beams of red light shooting across the short hallway leading towards the door. After several seconds an array of beams clicked on.

"What is this?" he grumbled under his breath, brow furrowed in vexation.

He turned back to the living room and dropped the bag, choosing for the moment to ignore the series of trip lasers that had been set up in the entryway without his knowledge. If his employer had doubled crossed him then he had made a fatal error in judgment. Kilmer pursed his lips and knitted his eyebrows as he concentrated on the task at hand. He unzipped the black rucksack and removed his tools.

Kilmer wasn't stupid. In fact, he'd scored in the top percentile at the CIA farm. But he was also paranoid. And furthermore, he knew it. However, unlike others, he didn't see it as a burden. He embraced his paranoia. It kept him alert and focused. And it had saved his life on more than one occasion. That was why, when he'd brought Johann Kriedt here the other night, Kilmer had the arms dealer and explosive expert set up some security measures on his hidden compartment.

Michael Smith, and Captain Montgomery before him, had used these files to blackmail Kilmer's employer, making the powerful and influential man impotent. Kilmer understood just how valuable these files were. Which was why he had been determined not to take any risks with them.

Dropping down to his knees, Kilmer stretched his hand out and ran his fingertips along the rough surface of the floor, searching of the small seams of the trapdoor. It wouldn't be long now. Soon he'd have the files. And then he'd have his fun.

XXX

Agent Martin Danberg shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket as he jogged down the dimly lit hallway. Analysts and junior agents jumped out of his way as he barreled forward at a frantic pace. He rushed towards the command center, hastily punching in the security code to unlock the door. He tapped his foot as he waited for the buzzer. Grabbing the handle, he yanked the door open and burst into the CIA New York Field Office Operations Center.

The Vice President of the United States was dead—assassinated by a former field operative who knew their entire playbook. Not knowing if this was an isolated incident or not, the Secret Service had rushed the President to a secure location. The same had been done for other high-ranking government officials.

The command center was buzzing with activity. Over a dozen agents were fielding tip line calls, all of which would prove useless. Another dozen were frantically running facial recognition traces on the thousands of CCTV security cameras located through the New York City area. Up on one of the big screens on the wall was a loop of the surveillance footage of Detective Beckett chasing the assassin through the streets. On another monitor was a photo of Raymond Kilmer from his CIA file. The man had been former Special Forces, and had scored in the top of his class at the training farm, yet the psychological exams failed to show just how certifiable the man was.

"Agent Danberg?" Agent Riley bolted up from his seat; his bespectacled face a mask of confusion when he spotted the senior agent rushing into the room.

"We know where Kilmer is!" Danberg asserted.

"We do? How?" Riley inquired, still perplexed.

"Agent Castle updated Director York," Danberg explained, then waved his hand to dismiss any further questions. "What do we know about 86 Markwell Street?"

Riley immediately sat back down, and quickly brought up the search engine on his computer before tapping out the address. He punched the enter button, and the computer terminal flashed, provided an image and brief on the building.

"On the big screen," Danberg huffed out, placing his hands on his hips as he shifted to stand in front of the large monitor mounted on the wall.

Agent Riley pushed a button and the screen came alive, the information flashing up onto the display. Danberg narrowed his eyes as he scanned the data.

"The building is currently undergoing renovations," Riley announced.

"See if there is anything that links this location to Kilmer," Danberg ordered.

"Already on it, sir," Riley replied. "Also running the search with all known aliases."

"Good."

They waited as the computer compiled the information. After an agonizingly long two minutes, there came a ping. Danberg shifted his feet, and glanced over at Agent Riley.

"We got a hit," the tech analyst stated the obvious. "An apartment is registered under one of Kilmer's known aliases—Cedric Marx."

"Alright, then it's a safe bet that if Castle gave this address to York that Kilmer is there," Danberg turned around and gestured towards two junior field agents standing off to the side, watching and waiting. "You two with me."

The two younger men stepped up and flanked him as he turned away from the large screen. He scrubbed a hand down his face, and let out a sigh. This might finally be over soon.

"Call Agents McCord and Hendricks," Danberg shouted as he backed away from the command post, and started rushing back down the ramp towards the door. "Have them meet me on location." He reached the door, and stopped. "And someone alert the Secret Service."

As Riley worked at contacting the Justice Department agents part of the Attorney General's special task force, another one of the other junior agents in the operations center picked up a nearby phone and dialed the number to a secure line at the CIA Headquarters in Langley.


	23. Chapter 22

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 22**

"Stay behind me," Castle hissed out as they darted around the corner, slipping through the busted opening into the disused stairwell. Her boyfriend moved with ease, swiftly climbing the stairs two at a time.

Kate narrowed her eyes slightly in annoyance, wanting to remind him that she didn't need him to protect her and could take care of herself, but decided it was best to hold her tongue. It was just her ego talking. She had been top of her class at the Police Academy, but Castle had been trained by the CIA, and often boasted being one of the best, a claim that was well earned. He was definitely better at hand-to-hand combat, something she had witnessed last year when they'd been captured by a mercenary team hired by rogue CIA agent Sophia Turner. Castle had been tied up and severely tortured, yet he'd still been able take out a room full of highly skilled mercenaries.

Castle let out a breath as the reached the fifth floor landing. Kate moved up behind him, and rested her shoulder against the cold concrete wall of the stairwell. Her ears perked up when she heard the echo of footsteps from above. Castle made a gesture with his hand, and she nodded. He squeezed her shoulder and then hurried around the turn, quietly climbing the steps up to the sixth floor landing.

Kate leaned back against the concrete, and closed her eyes, trying to steady the wild thumping of her heart beneath her ribcage. It had been a crazy 24 hours—a crazy week, to be honest—and she guessed that she was still in somewhat shock over everything that had happened. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she was essentially homeless. Biting her quivering lip, she worked at suppressing the emotions over losing almost all her possessions, some of which were irreplaceable.

It helped to remind herself that she wasn't alone anymore. She had Castle. And that eased her worries considerably.

In the past, Kate would have willingly faced such hardships alone. But she continued to find that now with Castle in her life, she would rather not.

"Kate," her boyfriend hissed out in a quiet voice. "It's safe. Just Ryan and Esposito."

Pushing off the cold concrete, Kate rounded the turn and found her team standing by the opened doorway, guns drawn at the ready. Both Ryan and Esposito looked relieved to see her.

"Anything?" she asked.

Esposito shook his head. "Nothing. Most of the top floors are completely gutted."

"With just the support structures remaining," Ryan finished, earning a mild glare from his partner.

Choosing to ignore their quarrel, Kate focused on the current situation. "We bumped into Kilmer downstairs," she informed her colleagues.

"So Castle's told us," Esposito grimaced.

"I'm amazed you're both alive," Ryan muttered under his breath. Esposito whacked him across the back of the head and he winced. "Sorry, just… um…"

"No, it's alright," Kate assured, putting a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You're just saying what we're all thinking."

Ryan nodded. "So, why do you think he didn't…?"

"Kill us?" Kate finished with a raised eyebrow, completing the sentence when when Ryan's voice trailed off. He nodded.

"Kilmer's a psychopath," Castle explained with a narrowed gaze. "Knowing him like I do, unfortunately… he probably want to prolong our suffering. The guy had always had an unhealthy appetite for torture. The CIA turned a blind-eye when he was doing it to terrorist, but even then, I think they knew it was something to keep an eye on."

Kate shared a look with Castle and allowed herself a moment of relief that they'd escaped such treatment. She pursed her lips and breathed in deeply through her nostrils. "He's in room 523, retrieving some files that Montgomery had on the man behind all of this."

"Then what are we waiting for!?" Esposito raised his gun, and turned towards the opened doorway.

"Wait, wait, Espo," Kate grabbed the man's arm to halt his advance. He glanced back at her with a furrowed brow. "You got an extra piece?"

"Oh, yeah," he crouched down and with his free hand removed his back up gun from his ankle holster, offering it to her.

Kate curled her fingers around the grip and grinned, relishing the reassuring feel of the gun's weight in her hand. Castle glanced expectantly at Ryan. It took the other detective a moment before registering the spy's silent request. Ryan reached inside his jacket and produced his backup weapon. Castle took it and Kate waited as he checked the sight.

"You ready?" she asked.

He bobbed his head. "Yeah, you?"

She nodded, and then double-checked the gun, firming up her grip. Gritting her teeth, Kate used all her training and years of experience to compartmentalize her emotions and stifle her growing anxiety about confronting Kilmer again. Feeling the mask of Detective Beckett slip into place, Kate glanced towards the three awaiting men.

"Let's go."

XXX

Agent Martin Danberg sat in the passenger seat of the Black Escalade, one hand raised up against the vehicle frame, bracing himself as the SUV zoomed through New York City traffic, heading in the direction of 86 Markwell Street. With his free hand, he tapped out the number to Castle's TCD-74 device on his cell phone. He'd sent several text messages to his friend and had yet to get a response. He was growing worried.

The phone started to ring, but the call never connected, going straight to voicemail.

"Damn."

"Sir?" the driver asked.

"Agent Castle's not answering his phone," Danberg explained. He frowned and stared out the window, growling when he spotted a build up in traffic. The driver started to slow down. This could not be happening. Last year he'd managed to get there just in time to save Castle and Detective Beckett from Sophia Turner. It still irked him that he hadn't completely seen her for the traitorous villain she'd been. If it hadn't been for Agent Castle that woman could have done a lot of damage to the United States intelligence community. After everything that had happened, Danberg couldn't let Castle down now, especially when Ray Kilmer was in the picture.

"Damn!" he slammed his fist against the dashboard as the SUV crawled to a stop.

The driver glanced over at him cautiously. "Sir?"

"We don't have time for this," Danberg said, gesturing towards the curb. "Drive on the sidewalk if you have to. We have to get to Markwell Street ASAP!"

XXX

Kate led the way, gun held in a high stance, arms relaxed and ready for a quick response. Castle was right behind her, moving swiftly and quietly. The boys took up the rear, flanking them on either side, eyes scanning the dismantled floor for signs of their target. Kate's eyes were wide, flicking about the torn down hallway, on alert for signs that would indicate room number. Some of the drywall was still in place, and Kate could see numbers scrawled next to doorways in black spray paint.

"This way," she muttered in a low hiss, gesturing down an adjacent hallway that still had the plasterboard up, covering the superstructure of the walls.

Castle moved in front of her, and once again she stifled the protest on the tip of her tongue. Kate was used to being the first one through the door, always in command and in the lead. She liked that. She liked having control. But this scenario was different. She wasn't dealing with some thug or run of the mill suspect. They were dealing with a highly trained and professional killer, who also happened to be extremely paranoid, and maybe even mildly insane.

In that regard, this was far from Castle's first rodeo. And besides, she knew he wasn't taking point because he didn't think she could handle herself when they encountered Kilmer. Far from that. Amongst the four of them, he understood and knew Kilmer the best. And that was no even considering their last encounter with the assassin at the Rosslyn Hotel. With all that in mind, it was only logical that Castle then took the lead.

He walked with light footsteps down the corridor, stepping over tangled wires and around bent support beams. He held up a hand, signaling for her to wait a moment, and she did. Her colleagues stopped beside her, each trying to conceal their worry. Esposito did a better job at it than Ryan.

Kate dropped the hands and relaxed her arms, unclenching her fingers around the Sig Sauer's grip. Shrugging her shoulders, she tried to ease the tension around her neck and upper back. Her heart pounded wildly inside her chest. She bit her lower lip and frowned, trying to suppress the anxiety building inside. Closing her eyes, she released a slow breath and focused on the coping mechanisms Dr. Burke had taught her during their therapy sessions.

" _Psst_ ," Castle returned from around the corner and motioned them over.

Locking her shoulders, Kate approached him with a questioning look.

Castle held up two fingers and gestured down the side corridor. "523 is this way," he said in a quiet voice, just loud enough for the others to hear. "I'll take point," he added, sharing a long, hard look with Kate, as if daring her to challenge him.

She clenched her jaw and nodded her consent.

They slipped around the corner, one at a time, and entered the far corridor. One wall had a series of tall windows at regular intervals, the thick glass smudged and grimy from a lack of proper cleaning. The opposite wall was opened, the insolation foam and electrical wire visible. Kate flickered her eyes around, assessing the area, trying to place their location in the building. Judging by the sunlight that managed to filter through the dirty windows, they were on the west side of the building.

"Up ahead," Castle hissed out in a low voice.

Kate glanced up and spotted the scrawled numbers spray-painted on the drywall at the end of the corridor.

 _523._

Castle stopped short of the doorway and glanced back at her over his shoulder. Kate frowned at his sudden pause. She gave him a questioning look. Castle jerked his chin slightly, indicating for her to proceed before him. She offered him a tight smile of gratitude as she slipped around him to take point. Kate felt her heart swell with love at how well this man understood and respected her. He treated her like a partner, not someone that needed his constant protection.

Adjusting her grip on her gun, Kate marched forward, sweeping her alert gaze at the corridor ahead. Castle was right on her tail, and it was reassuring knowing he had her back. Apartment 523 was one of the few to still have a door on its hinges. The door was covered in whitewash and stood ajar. Kate approached it with caution, holding her breath as she craned her neck to peer inside.

She saw a short corridor and a large open room behind. There was a man kneeling there, his back to them. From his build and posture, Kate knew immediately that she was looking at Raymond Kilmer.

Slipping back quietly, she glanced back at Castle and locked eyes with him for a brief moment to communicate what she'd seen. Understanding completely, he inclined his head ever so slightly. Kate nodded, raising her gun, and slipped back into place, peering through the narrow gap where the front door to the apartment stood ajar. Castle walked around her, taking position on the other side of the door. Esposito moved to flank her, while Ryan did the same with Castle.

Holding up his gun with one hand, Castle used the other to secure the doorknob. He gently nudged it forward, and the door swung inward. Kate inched over the threshold with Castle by her side, both keeping a steady aim on their target.

Kilmer was hunched over what looked to be a concealed floor safe. She heard a click as the tumblers unlocked and the metal squeak as he swung the latch open. Kate watched his shoulders move as he leaned forward to reach for what she could only assume were Montgomery's blackmail files.

Firming up her grip on her gun, she raised it and pointed it directly at the back of Kilmer's head. "Don't move," she ordered, proud of how steady her voice was in spite of the nervous butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Don't even breathe." She noticed the twitch of his neck as he glanced down at the Glock lying beside him. "Reach for it and I'll blow your head off."

Kilmer remained still. "Okay, Detective. You're in charge."

"Keep your hands were I can see them," Kate commanded as she and Castle inched further into the room.

"You may want to watch your step, Detective," Kilmer called back in an almost smug voice.

Thinking the man was just baiting them, Kate moved forward. Suddenly Castle's arm shot out, stopping her before she could step fully into the short corridor connecting the entryway to the rest of the apartment. Her eyes flared with annoyance as she glanced at him. He merely jerked his chin down in response, unfazed by her expression. Kate flicked her eyes down and froze. An array of red laser beams blocked their path. She looked back up at Castle and he shook his head, his expression grim.

"Trip lasers," he hissed in a low voice, just loud enough for her to hear. "Judging by the location, I'm guessing he didn't place them."

"No, I did not," Kilmer answered from his spot in front of the hidden floor safe.

Kate stared at him with wide eyes. "Then who?"

He chose to remain silent.

"If I had to guess, I'd say his employer," Castle said. "Either that, or he was stupid enough to leave Johann Kriedt alone in this apartment." He tilted his head and stared at his former CIA partner. "Well, which one was it, Ray?"

Again, the killer remained silent, his face set in stone, unreadable.

Castle let out a low chuckle, and shook his head in mirth. "He doesn't know," he elaborated when Kate glanced at his with a furrow brow.

"Can we disable them?" she asked, jerking her head down to examine the array of laser beams again, wondering if it was possible to jump over them.

"To be honest, we'd probably have to dismantle the wall first," Castle said with a shrug. His face hardened, and he cocked his gun, taking aim at the back of Kilmer's head. "I say we shoot him and be done with it."

"Oh, you wouldn't want to do that, Rick," Kilmer spoke up, confident in his assertion.

"And why's that?" Castle asked with a scowl, growing aggravated.

Kilmer waited a beat to give his reply, prolonging the confrontation. "Because of Johanna Beckett."

Kate's head snapped up and her mouth dropped in a silent gasp. "What about my mother!?" she demanded, unable to conceal the desperation in her voice.

Castle grabbed her arm to prevent her from launching forward and triggering whatever the laser beams were linked to. "Don't listen to him, Kate," he said. "He's just messing with you."

A low chuckle came from the man kneeling on the floor. He tilted his shoulder at an angle and arched his neck to glance back at them. He grinned smugly. "You want a name, don't you, Detective?" he taunted. "I can give it to you."

"Castle's right," Esposito grunted from behind them. "Don't listen to him, Beckett."

Kilmer turned his back to them. "You want answers, Detective Beckett? I have them." He straightened his back and slowly began to stand.

"Don't move!" Castle growled.

"It's useless, Rick," Kilmer informed him with a tight smirk. "You can't kill me. Your woman needs me alive. You kill me, you take away her one chance at finding out who is behind her mother's death. Her obsession. The only real thing that gives her life purpose."

"Montgomery's files have our answers," Castle asserted, ignoring the jab, not just for Kilmer's sake. "We don't need you."

Kilmer sneered at him. "You're a waste of space, Rick. I never understood what York saw in you," he paused, and his lips quirked up in an amused smirk. "Perhaps it was your father pulling strings."

That caught Castle off guard. Kate watched as her boyfriend blink twice and shook his head in disbelief.

Seeing his former partner falter, Kilmer grew bolder in his taunts. "If it wasn't for your father, you'd probably still be a hack wannabe writer, working at a fast food joint because you couldn't get any of your trash novels published."

Castle shoulders stiffened, and he scowled. Kate could see the muscles working under his skin as his jaw tensed. "As I said," he spat out. "We really don't need you alive."

"Then shoot me," Kilmer challenged.

Kate held her breath, feeling her heart hammered wildly beneath her ribs. She couldn't understand how this had spiraled so out of control so quickly. Glancing back and forth between the two men, she decided to put an end to the staring contest. Keeping her gun firmly aimed on Kilmer, Kate cleared her throat, easily drawing the man's attention. He looked at her with an unnerving expression of disinterest, as if she really wasn't worth his time, like he had better things to do.

"Just give me the file," she ordered, proud of how firm and commanding her voice was.

Kilmer shook his head, as if she disappointed him. "You sure about that, Detective?" he asked. "You have no idea who you're up against."

"Neither do they," she answered, narrowing her eyes on a glare. "Now, slowly reach down and hand me the files."

Kilmer held up his hands in surrender, and then slowly turned back around and knelt down in front of the hidden compartment in the living room floor. Kate noticed his head tilt ever so slightly towards the gun lying besides him.

"Don't even think about it, jackass," she said.

Kilmer glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow. "Fine."

He leaned down, and slowly reached down to grab the stack of files in the floor safe. Kate kept her gaze locked on him, searching for any signs of deception. Castle eased closer to her, his face a mask.

"Slowly, Ray," Castle insisted.

Just then, a phone rang behind them, and Kate could hear Ryan curse under his breath, apologizing as he quickly reached inside his pocket to shut the damn thing off. The distraction was all Kilmer needed. The assassin was already spinning back around with a small pistol in his hand, and a steel gaze, locked on her. Castle grabbed her around the waist and tugged her back as the first bullet zipped past her. The drywall by the side of her head exploded in dust and plaster, the particles rained down on them.

Kate fought off a cough as she and Castle returned fire. Kilmer easily dodged their shots, sending two more bullets towards them. Kate gritted her teeth as she felt one graze her arm. Thankfully the other sailed past her and rammed into the drywall. Just barely over the sound of gunfire, Kate could hear the wails of sirens. Kilmer heard it too. He fired two more shots at them, forcing them to retreat back into the hallway for cover. Castle shoved Kate back, and returned fire.

"You want the files!?" shouted Kilmer, tauntingly. "Here take them!"

Her eyes went wide as the bastard tossed the stack of files into the air. Papers and documents went flying as they coasted down into the short corridor connecting the entryway to the rest of the apartment. Kate held her breath as she watched one leaf of a paper float down through the laser beams. A high-pitched beep sounded in rapid succession, before a mechanical click echoed throughout the dismantled apartment.

"Ah shit!" Castle hissed, wrapping his arms around her waist. He pulled her back into the haven of his chest as the bombs planted in the drywall exploded.

The entire world seemed to shake. Kate closed her eyes and ducked her head into the safety of Castle's embrace. He spun them around and pressed her against the concrete pillar and metal supports to the left of the doorjamb, using his body to help shield her from the fiery inferno bursting out of the disused apartment. What had Kilmer been thinking? The man really was insane to trigger a booty trap intended to take him out. The blast was big, spilling out of the doorway as they took cover on either side. Ryan and Esposito dove out of the way, gritting their teeth and cursing loudly as the door flew off its hinges, bursting back and splintering against the opposite wall.

"Shit, you okay?" Castle gasped into her ear when the explosion subsided.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied in a wavering voice, bobbing her head. "Just a little shaken."

He nodded, and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head before stepping back. Kate squinted in the dust and debris, holding a hand up over her mouth as she coughed. Castle placed a gentle hand on her back, helping to soothe her. She glanced across the hallway at Ryan and Esposito. The partners were covered in bits of plaster, dusting their hair and shoulders like the first snow flurries of winter.

"You guys alright?" she asked, unashamed of the concern leaching out in her voice.

Ryan bobbed his head, and Esposito offered a thumbs up.

"The files!" Kate shouted. Her chest clenched with the prospect that the blackmail folder Captain Montgomery had kept all these years was gone. Besides Kilmer, it was her only lead on who was behind not only her mother's murder, but also the assassination of the Vice President of the United States.

"Kate… wait," Castle called after her as she rushed past him, and heedlessly into the wreckage of the apartment.

She ducked her head under a fallen cracked beam, almost stumbling into the blast area. Flickering memories of her own apartment flashed before her eyes, but the lack of any burned furniture or other singed personal items quickly drew her back to reality. Holding her gun up at the ready with both hands, Kate scanned the area, looking for any sign of Kilmer. There was a scorched rucksack and ripped jacket lying on the floor next to the banged up safe, but there was nothing else.

"He's gone," Esposito announced as he flanked out to her left, searching what had once been a kitchenette. Ryan trudged down a hallway to the right, calling all clear when he came up empty handed. Kilmer had once again slipped out of their grasp.

Bits of paper were still falling from above like confetti. Kate couldn't take her eyes off it, horrified at what had happened to her only lead. Castle growled in frustration as he snatched one of the floating pieces of paper out of the air.

"The file," he groaned in despair, echoing her feelings.

XXX

A sleek black desktop phone rang loudly, disturbing the quiet tranquility of the elegant office on the top floor of the CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Assistant Deputy Director Dan Kovaks leaned forward in his chair and hurriedly snatched the receiver up out of its cradle.

"Is it done?" he asked, not even bothering with the pleasantries.

He was answered by silence. Narrowing his eyes, Kovaks turned towards his computer, and with his free hand tapped out a command to start a trace on the call.

"Who is this?" he questioned sternly.

" _Thought you could double cross me, did you_?"

"You… you're… I have no idea what you're talking about," he fumbled out, unable to suppress the shock of hearing Raymond Kilmer's voice on the other end of the line. The man was supposed to be dead. He had put measures into place to ensure just that. His source within the New York City field office had confirmed Kilmer's location. He should have tripped the bomb.

" _Don't bother tracing the call_ ," Kilmer said, voice terrifyingly calm. " _I won't be long_."

"What do you want?" Kovaks growled.

" _To watch you burn_ ," came the psycho's response.

And then the line went dead.


	24. Chapter 23

**Psycho Killer – Chapter 23**

Red and blue lights from four parked police cruises flashed across the face of the ten-story building shielded by rows of construction scaffolding. Agent Martin Danberg climbed out of the government issued black Escalade, holding a hand up above his eyes as he squinted through the blaring lights. He spotted Agents McCord and Hendricks of the Justice Department within the cordoned off area. The senior of the two agents was on the phone, presumably with her superior, judging by her sour expression. Seeing as the NYPD were already swarming around the location, it was a safe bet they'd all arrived too late to assist in apprehending the fugitive. A police helicopter was hovering overhead, following a search pattern.

Danberg flashed his CIA-manufactured FBI badge at the uniformed officer posted by the yellow tape, and gained admittance, his two men following behind him. Hendricks was the first to greet him, inclining his head in a nod of acknowledgement as he approached.

"What do we know so far?" Danberg asked, keeping it all business.

"Agent Castle and Detectives Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito confronted the suspect on the fifth floor of the building," Hendricks informed him.

"And Kilmer?"

"He got away," McCord answered, hanging up her phone and shoving it back into her pocket as she walked over to join them. "Seems someone set a bomb in the apartment wall, hoping to take Kilmer out."  
"And you think it was Kriedt?"

"It's always possible," McCord shrugged her shoulders, "but seeing as he's dead, not likely."

"We're thinking a double-cross," Hendricks continued, but stopped when his partner silenced him with a glare.

Danberg pursed his lips, and cast a knowing look to one of his agents behind him. Turning back to McCord and Hendricks, he gestured towards the building entrance. "Let's go up and have a look, shall we?"

The NYPD had already called in the foreman of the renovation crew, and had thankfully restored power to certain sections of the building. They rode an elevator up to the fifth floor, where a uniform officer directed them to apartment 523. Agent Danberg stood in the hallway outside next to Agents McCord and Hendricks as they watched the FBI forensic techs comb through the mess of the ruined half-dismantled living room.

There was an overhead air duct that had semi-collapsed from the ceiling, hanging halfway down, and the electrical wiring was frayed and twisted. The floor was littered in pieces of paper, and several NYPD CSU personnel had been tasked with collecting the evidence. McCord spotted the singed rucksack, and nodded to her partner. Danberg stepped aside as she and Hendricks maneuvered around the other busy agents and clusters of debris, intent on checking the contents of the bag.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Danberg turned away from the wreckage and stepped around a cracked piece of drywall that had been blown off the wall, squinting his eyes as he surveyed the scene. It reminded him of Detective Beckett's apartment. _Hard to believe that had been last night_ , he thought. So much seemed to have happened in such a short time. He narrowed his eyes, hearing voices carry over the low buzz of activity.

Danberg made his way around the half fallen air duct and glanced towards what had once been in a kitchenette. The sink had been removed prior to the explosion, as had the refrigerator and most of the kitchen cabinets, leaving the space bare, save for some copper wiring and plumbing pipes. Agent Castle and Detective Beckett, along with two of her colleagues, were standing in a line being inspected by an authoritative African American woman, who Danberg could only surmise was Captain Victoria Gates of the 12th Precinct.

"So let me see if I get this right," the captain was saying when Danberg stepped into the kitchenette. He shared a look with Agent Castle, before returning his attention to Captain Gates. "As luck would have it, you four were in the neighborhood… taking a walk?"

"Well," Castle spoke up, glancing first at Beckett and then at a young detective Danberg recognized as Detective Kevin Ryan. "Many people consider that the best form of exercise. It's low impact. It has…"

Captain Gates silenced Castle with a glare. She did not look amused. Danberg shook his head and stifled a laugh at his friend's attempt to placate the NYPD captain. Even in grim situations like they faced at present, Castle was always ready with an explanation. It was the storyteller in him. Danberg had never seen someone spin a tale as fast or elaborate as Agent Rick Castle.

"Then you heard an explosion, and as concerned _private_ citizens you rushed inside to check it out," Gates summarized their story.

"Um, yeah, that's right," Detective Beckett inclined her head, putting on a superb poker face.

Gates narrowed her eyes at the detective, looking thoroughly unconvinced. She turned towards the other two detectives. "And is that how you remember it?"

"Yes sir," they chimed as one.

The NYPD captain looked annoyed.

"Captain Gates," Castle spoke up, taking a step forward. "I can personally vouch for—"

Gates held up a hand to silence him. "I am not interested, Agent Castle," she asserted with a stern expression. "Especially considering the deception you played to join Detective Beckett's team on the Orlando Costas case." Castle gave her a rather convincing contrite expression, but she didn't buy it. "Mr. Castle, you're unlike any FBI agent I've ever worked with."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Castle said with a cheeky grin.

Gates gave him a long pointed look before replying. "Don't."

"Captain… I can—" Beckett started, looking ready to step in and attempt to contain the situation.

"I don't want to hear it, Detective," Gates interrupted. "You're still on suspension. As are you, Detective Esposito." She paused and took a breath, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed the four of them. She glanced over her shoulder and spotted Agent Danberg watching. Folding her arms over her chest, she returned her attention to the others. "Fine… let's say you happened to be in the area," she said. "How do you then explain sightings of Cole Maddox, the man wanted in connection to the Vice President's assassination—and the man who shot you last year, Detective Beckett—fleeing the area not long after the explosion?"

"Bad karma," Castle offered.

Beckett grabbed his arm, giving him a warning look, and he simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

"Detective Ryan," Gates turned on the younger detective.

"Sir?"

"As the only one of my detectives not on suspension, do you know anything about this?"

"Um," Ryan glanced nervously towards Castle and Beckett before looking back towards his commanding officer. "Just that the apartment entrance seemed rigged to blow, and with Maddox spotted leaving the scene, I'd guess he must have triggered it."

"And what about that safe in the floor?" Gates demanded, jabbing a finger towards the busted hidden compartment.

"Hard to say," he frowned. Danberg suppressed a smirk as he noticed the man's eyes shift towards Detective Beckett. "Papers of some kind." The man's partner seemed to be evaluating him, and from what Danberg could tell, appeared pleased with Ryan's answer.

Gates nodded, and turned back to the other three, placing her hands on her hips, defying them to lie to her. "And I don't suppose you know what was in those papers, and why Maddox might have been here?"

Beckett was the first to shake her head and answer. "Like I said, we were just walking by."

"Right," sighed Gates, still looking unconvinced. "As you said." She turned to Ryan and gestured for him to follow. "Come, Detective, we have work to do. You three," she looked at Beckett, Castle, and Esposito. "You're done. I want you out of my crime scene."

Beckett looked like she wanted to object, but Castle placed a hand on her arm and shook his head. She let out a sigh and inclined her head.

"Yes, sir."

With that Captain Gates marched back into the ruins of the living room, Detective Kevin Ryan trailing nervously behind her. Esposito shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his closely cropped hair, before he stepped over to Beckett and murmured something. The detective shared a long look with him, and then touched his shoulder, offering him a wane smile. Esposito then shook hands with Castle, before taking his leave, hurrying out of there.

Danberg took that as his opportunity to step forward.

"What the hell happened here?" he asked, glancing at the couple. "And I'd like the real story."

Castle bobbed his head as his eyes narrowed. "We traced Kilmer to this apartment, but it looks like his employer decided to pull a double-cross. We cornered Kilmer and well… he purposely set off the trap to cover his escape."

"And the confetti?" Danberg questioned, gesturing towards the floor strewn with bits and pieces of flayed and singed papers.

Detective Beckett closed her eyes and groaned, listing into Castle's side. Danberg pursed his lips as he watched the interaction. The intimacy displayed between them made him happy. Castle was a long-time friend, and if there was anyone who deserved to find some small measure of happiness it was him. Danberg hadn't enjoyed playing his part in the scheme and reporting on the couple to ADD Kovaks, but it had all been part of York's grand plan to ensnare the dirty bureaucrat. He hoped it wasn't a wasted effort.

"Closure lost," Beckett sighed in a vague reply.

"Files that the late Captain Montgomery had on who was behind the murder of Johanna Beckett," Castle explained with a wrinkled nose.

Danberg raised his eyebrows. "Why would Kilmer have those?"

"My guess would be he was fulfilling multiple contracts from his current employer, one of which involved silencing Beckett and putting an end to the investigation into her mother's murder," Castle said.

Detective Beckett shook her head, glaring straight ahead as she scowled. "I think he must have sensed a double-cross coming, and wanted those files as added insurance against his employer."

"So you're thinking this mysterious employer who's behind your mother's death and ordering the attempted hits on you, is also the same that—?"

"Orchestrated the assassinated of the Vice President of the United States?" Beckett finished with a rueful smile. "Yes. Yes I do."

"No kidding?" Danberg asked, surprised. From his brief glimpse into the case files, he knew the conspiracy surrounding Johanna Beckett's death involved some powerful and influential people, yet he hadn't expected it to connect to the assassination at the Windmark Hotel, other than Kilmer being the common thread binding them together.

"No kidding," Castle echoed with a slight smirk. He knitted his eyebrows together and grew somber, lowering his voice. "There's something more going on, Martin. Before he set off the trap, Kilmer mentioned my father…"  
"Your father?"  
"Yeah," Castle affirmed, though he appeared completely puzzled by the apparent connection hinted by the rogue assassin. "He said something about my father being in the Agency, implied that he's the reason York recruited me."

Danberg tried to school his expression, but Castle knew him too well. His friend's eyes grew wide at the unspoken confirmation.

"You knew?" he hissed out, barely a whisper, the sense of betrayal thick in his voice.

Danberg held up a hand to stall any further discussion. "Now's not a good time for this," he asserted, trying to regain control of the conversation. Last thing he wanted was to get involved in the impending family squabble. "Right now we need to focus on the situation at hand."

Castle opened his mouth to object, but Beckett placed a hand on his shoulder, and stopped him. "He's right, Rick," she said in a soft voice that had a calming effect on the aggravated agent. "It can wait."

"Alright," Castle relented, staring long into Beckett's eyes before turning his gaze back to Danberg. "It can wait."

XXX

He could hear the drone of a police helicopter in the distance. It didn't bother him. They would never find him. They were searching in the wrong direction. Glancing back and forth, Kilmer jogged across the street, grumbling under his breath as his stomach growled. He needed sustenance, and he needed it fast. Taking a left around the corner, he sprinted down the sidewalk, easily moving around other pedestrians. Staring ahead, he spotted one of those ubiquitous hot dog carts one always sees in New York City on the next block. He paid the vendor generously, and then scarfed down his hot dog as he hurried along.

Kilmer was still fuming from the attempted double-cross. Kovaks had no idea what hell he'd just unleashed on himself. Kilmer would get his revenge, and then he would be gone, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost. People had always called him crazy, underestimating his determination. His resolve had never been stronger than it was now. His focus was sharp and unwavering. He was determined to see this to its bitter end, whatever the cost.

He paused at a corner and glanced back, seeing the police helicopter hovering several blocks away. He frowned, thinking of the unfinished business he left back there. It had been unavoidable. Agent Castle and Detective Beckett were no longer his top priority. He would have enjoyed tormenting them, to be sure, but now there were bigger fish to fry. With the betrayal of Kovaks, the contract to kill the lady detective was null and void. And though he didn't know it yet, the CIA bureaucrat had just signed his own death warrant.

Still, despite the breached contract, Kilmer didn't like leaving things unfinished. His face pinched up in annoyance. He still had a score to settle with the couple. Their continued existence vexed him terribly.

 _Soon_ , he promised himself. He'd let them settle, grow complacent and vulnerable. And that was when he would strike, when they least expected.

He moved quickly down the sidewalk, making one last call on his cellphone, bypassing the middleman and speaking directly with the big cheese, before he ditched the burner, leaving it in a random public trashcan. Plans were in motion, and while Kovaks had created a bump in the road, there was still a bigger picture in play. Project Lazarus was only just beginning. Tugging the hood of his jacket up over his head, Raymond Kilmer shoved his hands into his pockets and easily vanished into the crowd of oblivious pedestrians.

XXX

Samson York sat in a comfortable leather armchair in the elegant anteroom, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he held up his cell phone and checked the updates coming in from New York via Agent Martin Danberg. Not a lot was known at this current juncture, but it was easy to surmise that Kilmer had been double-crossed by whomever he was working for. Danberg's latest message informed him that he'd debriefed both Agent Castle and Detective Beckett, also telling him about the blackmail file that the late NYPD Captain Roy Montgomery had compiled, which had been in Kilmer's possession, had been destroyed in the blast. It was a huge loss. York had been hoping to use that intel to help them flush out the head of the conspiracy.

 _What are your orders?_ came a text from Danberg.

York took a long moment to think it over before replying. _Let the local authorities and FBI handle it for the moment. Kilmer is probably already long gone. And keep a close tab on Agent Castle and Detective Beckett._

Danberg responded with an affirmative.

"Mr. York," the pretty blonde secretary called from the spot behind her desk, and he glanced up at the young woman with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, Paulina?"

"Director Reynolds will see you now," she announced, hanging up her desktop phone.

York nodded his thanks and stood up, shoving his phone into his pocket as he walked towards the door, readying himself to inform the CIA Director about the side project he and Hunt had been running. It was time the Director knew the true scope of what was at stake.

XXX

The hotel room was quiet.

It seemed strange to have such peacefulness after the loud and chaotic day they'd had. And with Kilmer in the wind, they were no closer to answers of any kind, about her mother's murder and his father's identity. Castle knew his former partner well. If they hadn't found him by now, then the man was gone. They definitely wouldn't be hearing from him anytime soon.

Kate stirred beside him in the big comfy bed, tucking her head down and curling further into the luxurious sheets. After everything she'd been through in the last forty-eight hours, his headstrong girlfriend had been too exhausted to argue when he suggested they rent a room for the night. Castle loved his mother and daughter dearly, but he couldn't handle their questions at this time. Besides, with what appeared to be a permanent lull in the chase for the fugitive Cole Maddox—also known as Raymond Kilmer—Castle wanted to spend some quiet and alone time with his girlfriend.

He was grateful that she was able to find sleep, something that eluded him at present. Kilmer's words haunted him. He kept replaying them over and over in his head. It was all wrong. The entire thing was all wrong. He felt impotent, powerless in the face of such wrongness. It left him feeling uncertain and filled with an uncommon amount of self-doubt. He'd never felt this lost and unsettled since the day Kyra Blaine left for London. It had taken recruitment into the CIA to bring him balance back then. Now, however, he could only think of one person that could restore his equilibrium.

Castle shifted in bed, careful not to jostle the mattress too much to wake her. Resting his elbow on the pillow, he perched his chin in his palm and gazed down at the gorgeous goddess lying next to him in bed. She looked so peaceful and content wrapped in the lavender colored sheets, her worries forgotten, at least temporarily. Castle wished she could always be like this, without the burdens of the larger world. But then she wouldn't be Kate Beckett, the woman he fell in love with.

Letting out a soft sigh, he tilted his head and smiled down at her sleeping form. Tentatively, he reached out and brushed her silky brunette hair away from her face. Her nose wrinkled adorably at the action and she unconsciously eased into his touch. He palmed her jaw and brushed his thumb across her soft skin, skipping over the beauty mark on her cheek.

Ever so slowly, her eyes flickered open, and she stared up at him sleepily, a warm and contented smile spreading across her face. "Castle?"

"Shh," he hushed. "I didn't mean to wake you. Just go back to sleep."

She hummed in response and readjusted her position on the mattress so she could look at him more properly. "The staring is still creepy, you know?" she grinned, eyes alight with amusement mixed with strong affection.

"Well, get used to it, Detective, because I can't seem to take my eyes off you," he said in a gentle reply, stroking the pad of his thumb across her cheek once more.

She smiled happily. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Agent Castle."

"Oh, is that so?" he questioned, thoroughly unconvinced. He graced her with a dubious look for good measure.

Her grinned widened as she relaxed onto her back as he shifted above her, letting his hand wander down the elegant slope of her neck. She pursed her lips and swallowed in anticipation. Castle watched, transfixed on the bob of her throat as she did so. She was so breathtakingly beautiful. Everything about her was utterly fascinating. He would never get bored of being with Kate Beckett.

Playing his fingers down her throat, he gently trailed a meandering pattern across her bare shoulder. He nudged the top of her gray t-shirt down to dance his fingertips across her collarbone, reveling in the way her breath hitched at his touch. He smoothed his palm out over her heart, and dipped his head down to press a loving kiss to her lips. She kissed him back, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face and dug her fingers into the scruff of hair along the back of his neck. The most adorable little moan escaped her lips in-between breaths.

"I'm sorry," he declared softly when he pulled back, resting his forehead against hers.

"For what?" she questioned, nose wrinkling in confusion.

"For letting you down," he elaborated. "Allowing Kilmer to escape. Not getting the answers you deserve." He paused and swallowed thickly with guilt. "For all of it."

"Hey, no," she shook her head vehemently, reaching out to curl her fingers around the base of his neck and pull him back down for another sweet kiss. "It's not your fault. None of it is. It's all on him. On the bastards that hired him. They did this. Not you. Never you."

Castle nodded, though still not entirely convinced, and slipped down to lie beside her on the bed. Kate turned, slinking her arms around his torso as she curled into him, nuzzling her nose against his throat. He dropped his hands to her slender waist, and gently nudged the hem of her gray t-shirt up so he could play with the warm skin underneath. Kate released a warm breath against his neck, and he sighed, tilting his chin down to so he could press a kiss to the top of her head. He felt her smile against the hollow of his throat.

"Relax, Rick," she said, smoothing her palms down his back. "I can feel the tension throughout your whole body."

"I just hate leaving this business unfinished," he confessed. "It's messy. And unprofessional. To be honest, I'm amazed you can actually sleep, knowing just how frustrated you probably are over all this."

Kate replied with a lazy shrug of her shoulders. "Perhaps because I know it's not the end. Not really. There's still more story to tell here, Castle."

She playfully nipped at the underside of his jaw. Castle grinned, squeezing her waist in appreciation at her reference to his writing habit.

"What would Nikki Heat do in this situation?" she asked, releasing a contented sigh as she nuzzled further into him.

Castle pretended to think it over before answering. "She'd take out her frustration by screwing Rook's brains out," he chuckled, lips quirking up in a mischievous smirk.

Kate shook with laughter, her mirth infectious, and she pulled back to give him a mild glare. "Really dug deep for that one, did you?"

Castle waggled his eyebrows at her and stretched out along side her, tightening his hold around her lithe body as he tugged her closer. He sighed as he felt her come willingly, listing into his broad frame with ease. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of her scent, taking a second to bask in the intimacy of the moment. He danced his hand up her back and curled his fingers around her throat and jaw. She arched her neck up with his encouragement, and locked eyes with him.

"We'll get it done, Castle," Kate told him, firm enough in her belief to convince him. "Maybe not today, or tomorrow… but we will."

"How do you know?" he asked, unable to hide the uncertainty in his voice.

She paused for a long beat, her eyes flicking briefly down to his lips. "Because, if I've learn anything from the last week, it is that together we're a force to be reckoned with. And by God, Castle… there will be a reckoning. And it will be by our hands."

"Together," he promised. "We'll find those answers together."

She let out a soft hum in agreement, snuggling further into his side. "Sleep now, Castle," she instructed at length.

Despite his restlessness and the self-doubts he still harbored, Castle found himself stabilizing inside. He released a breath, and his chest unclenched as he let go of all the tension he had been carrying around since their encounter with Kilmer. He glanced down at his extraordinary girlfriend, tucked up against his chest, rapidly returning to her restful slumber. He brushed a soft kiss to the crown of her head and murmured his love. Her lips quirked up just a bit, and she echoed his declaration with one of her own, pressing a soft kiss to the bottom of his throat.

He knew she was right. The story wasn't over yet. They were just at the intermission. It wouldn't be too long until the orchestra played the entr'acte and the play resumed. Closing his eyes, Rick Castle allowed the comforting warmth of Kate Beckett's close proximity to carry him into the blissful oblivion of dreamland.

Tomorrow would be another day.


	25. Epilogue

**Psycho Killer – Epilogue**

* * *

 _"I can't seem to face up to the facts  
_ _I'm tense and nervous and I  
_ _Can't relax  
_ _I can't sleep 'cause my bed's on fire  
_ _Don't touch me I'm a real live wire."  
_ \- Talking Heads, _Psycho Killer_

* * *

"We were so close, Castle. So close," Kate sighed, picking at the scrambled eggs she'd order from room service for breakfast. She adjusted her weight on the chair and shifted one leg underneath her as she sat at the small table in the hotel suite. "That file would have told us who's at the center of this and who killed my mom."

Castle nodded, and reached out across the table to grasp her free hand in his own, squeezing his fingers reassuringly around hers. She glanced up and offered him a wane smile of gratitude. She dropped her fork and picked up a strip of bacon, nibbling at it as she brooded.

"Well, at the very least, we know Kilmer won't be coming after us any time soon," Castle asserted.

"How do you know that?"

"Whoever he was working with tried to double-cross him," Castle explained, talking around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Trust me, Kilmer is like a dog with a bone when it comes to that kind of thing. He won't let such betrayal stand."

Kate inclined her head, conceding to her boyfriend's point. "But he'll be back," she insisted. "This isn't over."

"No, it's not," Castle concurred with a frown.

"Even if it's not Kilmer that comes, they'll probably just send someone else," Kate said with a long sigh, wondering if she'd ever be able to crawl out of the shadow of her mother's death. She slipped back into her chair and wrapped her fingers around the warm ceramic mug containing a very rich blend of coffee.

Castle's face screwed up in thought, and she looked at him questioningly. "Well, unless whoever's behind all this doesn't know the file's been destroyed," he supplied. "Maybe he thinks it's still in play."

Kate shook her head. She'd already considered that. "I wouldn't bet on that, would you?"

Castle shrugged. "You're right. I wouldn't."

"Any news from your boss?" Kate asked, after a long beat of companionable silence between them. She was hoping the CIA was finally taking the threat of Ray Kilmer seriously, especially now that the man had assassinated the Vice President of the United States.

"York called while you were in the shower," he informed her.

"And?"

"He talked with the Director last night," Castle elaborated after taking a sip from his coffee. "They're setting up a team. And York wants me to be a part of it."

"That's good," she inclined her head. "You should be on it. No one knows Kilmer like you do." She paused and averted her gaze, curling her fingers around her coffee mug. "So… when do you leave?"

Castle opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud knock from the hotel door. Frowning, he stood up and retrieved his Sig Sauer. Kate did the same, grabbing her Glock, and following behind him. They had checked into this room using aliases, and they weren't expecting anyone. Bracing herself for a potential fight, Kate watched Castle approach the door with caution. After slowly removing the chain, Castle unlocked the deadbolt and curled his fingers around the door handle. He glanced back at her and she gave a tiny nod, indicating she was ready.

The door swung open to reveal a shocked Kevin Ryan, with Esposito standing beside him, both of whom appeared startled to be greeted at gunpoint. Ignoring her temporary surprise at seeing the two estranged partner together, Kate lowered her weapon.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We… er… actually arrived separately," Esposito said, flicking annoyed eyes over at his partner. "Lanie was worried, so I told her I'd come and check on you."

"And I came to bring you this," Ryan held up a big bag full of paper scraps.

Kate could feel her heart rate quicken with anticipation at the sight. "Paper from the safe?" she asked for clarification, not wanting to get her hopes up.

Ryan nodded in confirmation.

Her mouth spread wide in a smile and she stepped back, ushering the boys in. She glanced over at Castle, and knitted her eyebrows together when she noticed he did not appear as excited as she was, wearing a stoic expression. Kate shrugged it off, thinking he just didn't want to get his hopes up.

XXX

They ended up dumping the contents of the bag onto the small table in the hotel suite. It didn't give them much room to work with, but there was enough flat space that they could shift through the thousands of ripped and torn pieces of paper, trying to put the thing together like it was a massive jigsaw puzzle. It was tedious work, but necessary. At some point, Castle had turned on the TV to give them some background noise, which actually made it a little easier to work.

"What are we looking for?" Esposito asked as he sorted through a small stack of pieces.

"Names. Places. Dates," Kate listed off. "Anything that tells us what was in these files and why someone is so desperate to keep it hidden."

She couldn't help but recall the last talk she'd ever had with her late mentor before Lockwood and his thugs killed him in that hangar. Someone had uncovered what Montgomery, McCallister, and Raglan had down all those years ago. And instead of turning them in, the man had demanded the ransom money the trio had extorted out of the mobsters. That man had then took that money to become what he was today. Montgomery had said that out of everything that might have been his greatest sin. It had been Montgomery's intention to end it that night, but the opposite had occurred.

Esposito let out a groan, slumping down in his chair and rubbing the back of his neck. "It's been five hours," he sighed. "And all I've got is something the size of a playing card, and not only that, it's blank."

"Yeah well, I've got 'ending balance' here," Ryan said from the other side of the table. It hadn't been lost on Kate that the two had sat as far away from one another as humanly possible. "I think it's some kind of bank statement."

Castle stretched over and picked up one of the pieces Ryan was looking at, bringing it back to examine it more closely. Beckett leaned against his shoulder and stared down at it as he held it up for them to look at it.

"Not just a bank statement," she stated with raised eyebrows.

Her boyfriend nodded. "This is part of a money order made out to cash. That could be a payoff."

"And whoever it went to is probably our guy," Kate said, feeling her heart quicken with hope that they finally had a lead.

"Well that would make sense," Castle agreed.

"Yeah, in what way?" Ryan inquired, brow furrowing.

"All this started when Montgomery and his cop buddies started kidnapping mobsters for ransom money," Castle explained, narrowing his eyes as he recalled the information Kate had shared with him on the case.

"And we know someone found out, and demanded a cut of that money," Kate finished. She had just been thinking of this. It was all starting to come into place. She could feel her body start to vibrate with anticipation.

"And whoever that is, there's something in this file that he does not want to get out," Castle concluded.

While everyone was talking, Esposito had still been working those those blank pieces. He absently turned them over, and noticed something. Flipping the rest over, he started seeing a pattern.

"Yo, this one has numbers on it."

Kate's head jerked up sharply in his direction, eyes wide and hopeful.

"And it's machine printed," he continued, squinting down at the pieces of paper in front of him. "It's an eight digit string, so it's not a phone number. Wait a minute—"

"Oh—that's the—"

"This is the back of that money order," Esposito agreed with Castle. "And these digits—08672241—that's the account it was deposited in."

Kate bobbed her head, feeling like this could be it. "If we figure out whose account that is, that should give us a name."

"And I think I know a way," Castle asserted, digging his archaic looking flip phone out of his pocket.

Esposito scoffed in disbelief. "What can you do with that old thing?" he asked as Castle flipped the phone open.

Castle chuckled and shared a look with Kate before turning towards the dubious-looking detective. "This isn't some ordinary phone, Detective Esposito," he explained, before turning back to Kate. "Just give me a sec, I should be able to access a federal banking database."

Esposito still looked unconvinced.

"It's spy craft, Javi," Ryan said, earning a glare from his disgruntled partner.

"Are we even sure they track accounts going back this far?" Esposito asked as Castle leaned back and tapped the buttons on his flip phone.

"Whoever owns that account is the person who killed my mom," Kate reminded him, determined that this would work. She turned to Castle, who was glancing at her, as if awaiting orders. She offered him a small smile. "Run it."

Castle punched a few more buttons in his phone, and then all they could do was wait while the search ran. While they waited, Kate slipped a hand down to grasp Castle's free hand. Their palms kissed and his fingers clenched around hers in reassurance. His eyes locked with her and through that look, he passed along his confidence that this would work, and that this search would yield some answers. After almost a minute, the flip phone buzzed. Kate held her breath as Castle glanced back down at the screen.

"Well?" Esposito inquired, growing impatiently.

"The account was closed 19 years ago," Castle said. "The name is listed as…" his voice trailed off as his eyes went wide.

"What is it, Rick?" Kate asked, squeezing his hand to get his attention. But her boyfriend was distracted, only flicking his eyes up to stare at the television screen. Kate followed his gaze, and saw a reporter interviewing Senator Bracken in front of the hospital he'd been admitted to after the incident at the Windmark Hotel. The politician had one arm in a sling, but other than that he appeared to be doing just fine. Turning back to her boyfriend, Kate moved her hand up and touched the side of his face, hoping to gain his attention.

He flinched and his eyes flicked over to her.

"Castle… what is it?" she repeated her question.

"The name on the account…," he started, pausing to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. "The account that close 19 years ago… it belonged to William H. Bracken."

A shocked gasp escaped her lips as the ramifications hit her. Her eyes jerked away from her boyfriend and back towards the television screen, where a solemn Senator Bracken was exulting the life and career of the recently assassinated Vice President.

" _He was a man of honor and great integrity, noble and just. He loved this country with a great passion. He would have made a great president_ ," Bracken was saying. " _His death is a tremendous loss for our magnificent country. I've spoken with his wife, and with her blessing, and that of the people, than yes, I will humbly assume the burden of taking up Vice President Russell's cause, and run for president in his stead._ "

"Dear God," Kate exclaimed, feeling like the entire world had just vanished beneath her feet. She glanced at the boys, who both looked as shocked and stunned as she was, and then she shared a bewildered look with her boyfriend. "He planned it. He planned it all. Everything that has happened—all of it—it… it has been with this one goal in mind. The man who killed my mother, who tried to have me killed, and succeeded in assassinating the Vice President, did it all so that he could become the President of the United States."

"It makes sense," Castle said after a long beat where everyone just absorbed this latest revelation. "Bracken was the Assistant District Attorney for New York from '88 to '92."

Kate pursed her lips and stared down at the table. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. She felt Castle place a hand on her arms.

"Kate?" he asked in a low, concerned voice.

"I'm fine, Rick," she breathed out, forcing herself to look up. She offered him a small smile, but she could tell he wasn't buying it. Kate knew that later, when it was just the two of them, he'd want more, but right now he respected her wishes and didn't push. And she loved him all the more for that, for knowing and understanding her as well as he did. "That timeline fits. That was when Montgomery was kidnapping gangsters."

"If all this is true, Bracken must've heard about what they were doing through the grapevine," Esposito said.

Kate nodded. "And then he realized that he couldn't charge mobsters because they wouldn't testify and then the cops would walk."

"So instead he decided to get in on the action," Ryan surmised, jumping in on the theorizing. "If they were collecting ransom from mob guys he wanted a taste in the form of cash money orders."

"Right," Castle said. "But as his political star rose from Congressman to Senator, he realized he had to make sure this scandal never came to light."

"So then people started dying," Kate finished with a somber look. Everyone shared her grim mood. This conspiracy had turned out to be a lot bigger than any of them had thought.

"And now he's running for President," Esposito said, gesturing towards the television screen where Bracken was still pontificating. "He's trying to clean house. We need to take him down."

"How?" Kate asked, feeling powerless. She glanced between Ryan and Esposito, seeing them realize just as much. "All we have are a bunch of numbers that are meaningless to anyone but us. We have absolutely no hard evidence against him." She sighed in frustration, and glanced up at her boyfriend, frowning when she noticed his conflicted expression. "Rick?"

He swallowed, and glanced at her with an uncertain gaze. "I can help," he spoke slowly, as if he was still reasoning it out himself. "I have contacts, not just within the CIA, but elsewhere. It might take time, and a lot of work, but I think it's possible. We can take him down."

"Castle, I don't want you risking your career for this," Kate asserted. Yes, she wanted justice for her mom, but she didn't want this quest to shadow anymore of her life than it already had. Especially her life with Castle. He was one of the only bright spots in her life and she'd been damned if she let anything tarnish that.

"This is bigger than that," Castle said, brushing off her concern. "This man orchestrated the assassination of a high ranking government official for personal gain. I can't let that go. And I know you can't. If I did, I wouldn't be the man you fell in love with."

Kate sighed, and inclined her head, slipping her hand back into his, and squeezing it in reassurance and unison. "You're right," she said, wanting nothing more than to kiss him, but considering their company, decided to wait until later. "But I don't want you doing this alone. We do this together… as a united team." She stared long and hard at him, challenging him to deny her.

"Okay," he relented, releasing a long breath, shoulder deflating a little in surrender. He offered her a soft smile. "Together."

* * *

 **THE END**

* * *

*AGENT RICK CASTLE and DETECTIVE KATE BECKETT will return in... _**PRIVATE EYES 3: YOU KNOW MY NAME**_.


End file.
